Thoughts oh thoughts. Too many raising in my brain, like balloons, they all are crowded into one area until they all just pop from the tension. And when those delicate balloons pop I get urges, ideas. Ideas to fall into all of those urges. What if I just **** one person maybe two, what would I be known as a k-k-killer or just another psychotic little girl finding an out. Would I be sent to a hospital or just another hell hole. Would I prefer a hell hole over my living nightmare. God all these options and sadly I know how I’d answer, not the answer I need.