Fuck the wrong things, too many things are good.

I could sit here and complain.
I could complain about how;
my sister failed out of college, but my parents gave her $5,000 dollars to go and become famous in NYC with her modeling agency. I could complain about how I work the hardest for my 4.0 GPA, and the bitch that I hate cheats and gets the same thing.
I could complain about how I haven't seen my best friend since last Monday. I could complain that my room is being taken over by my older sister who's LEAVING for college, yet she can't let go of this fucking house. I could complain that I'm being forced to share a room for the rest of my fucking life. I could complain that my iPod caught a virus from my damn computer. I could complain that my straightener broke. I could complain that I have to do everything and keep everyone happy because their feelings are fragile. I could complain about numerous things, but then how could I be happy that my favorite cousin is coming to stay with me? I'm happy that I finally have my acrobatics at a reasonable level. I'm happy that I've lost those last two pounds, and I'm still going strong. I'm happy that in a few monthes, these braces will be OFF. I'm happy that they found something to help the oil leak. I'm haooy that my cell phone contract is up and I get to buy a new one on Wednesday. I'm happy that my brother in law is coming home from Afghanistan in less then a month. I'm happy that my sister promised to bring me back a 'real' designer purse from NYC, even though I have many. I'm happy that I have food, water, a house, family and friends. I'm happy that I have life. I'm happy. (: X's and O's, Hannah.