Oh, that's a good one. Well, maybe I'll answer it a bit later.
Ah, whatever:
She was the friend I had to was raped and then killed herself; that was her name. Done! No procrastinating today.
I can't say that it (as well as a pile of other events) hasn't lead me to, virtually at random (with today being one of those days), break down and cease all human functionality in favour of banging myself in the head repeatedly with a piece of PVC pipe - you know, those things that aren't actually very tough, but as far as ridding yourself of teenage angst goes, this is compensated by the idea of hitting yourself in the head with a pipe proving to be pretty hardcore. Alternatively, my zero percent more mature and two-hundred percent less physically-destructive way of dealing with it is to Google random topics created by users speaking about Thom Yorke's flabby eye; it's nice when I'm able to read about people who have very similarly obscure problems like that to mine; in this case, I've also had to have over five eye surgeries when I was young, wear an eyepatch during school and be mocked to no extent for it, and have one of the final surgeries get botched causing my eye to permanently point off in a strange direction making it go half blind. Of course it's not a 1:1 with Yorke's story, but it's similar enough I selfishly think to immorally warrant a slight amount of pretense in which I unrightfully soak up some of his fans' sympathy.
Three cheers over here for completely steering a conversation off-track. I apologise once again, as this forum should not be my stupid-mental-garbage dumping ground.