Homeless

So I turn eighteen in fourteen days. I need a place to stay other than here. I fucking hate this house. This house is not a home. I need a job because I need money because I need a place to stay. I could care less about myself eating or living comfortably, I just need a roof over my head that doesn't feel as if it'll collapse and kill me. I have no home, no family, and no money for anything... not even college. God. I'm not even there and college is already killing me. I have no one to blame but myself really. I constantly find myself hating myself for all the shit I get myself into. I don't mean to, but I often do anyway. I'm by far the stupidest person I have ever met. I hate myself more than I've ever hated anyone. God. What the fuck is wrong with me? What, what, what? Shoot me. Someone. Anyone. Now. Please.

9:41 P.M. Edit//
I want to fucking kill her. I want to make sure that she does not have a single breath left in her aging body. I want to make sure that she is cold, lifeless, and unable to bother me or anyone else anymore. I want to bury her body where it cannot be found ever again, not even by me. I want her words to seep back into her cold, dead, blue lips, as I do cartwheels around her and show everyone that she was nothing but wrong, wrong, wrong as she always was and will always be.