It's sick.

I loved it.

Every fucking second that I survived while others died in horrendous ways. I loved That I could handle a big scary Armageddon.

I relished That Dipper looked up to me.

I was hot. I was cool. I was what he wanted to be.

He was devoted to me but I was too wrapped up in the fun I was having in the bubble to stick with the only guy who's ever stuck by me.

While others were starving and dying, I was getting a rush from being the coolest girl in town.

And now here I am again, failing high school with a bunch of dickheads who just want sex.

I'm passing three classes.

All my real friends have moved on.

I even miss my summer job at the shack.

I'm so bad at being normal.

I hate this life.

I survived better in the apocalypse.

It's so fucking sick, but I wish I was fighting for my life again, to get that rush, that feeling of just getting away by the skin of my teeth.

People died.

We can all pretend it never happened but not everyone got away.

I should die.

I'm a failure.

Goddamnit.

Mom was right.

Her last night, surrounded by those strange trees, in the cradle of a whispering forest, she was right.

Mom would have slapped me.

Mom.