Ha, no dad. You were supposed to come back and save me before you died. Not just die. Silly.
In other news, I realized that I talk about death so much around my friends that they don't even notice anymore. Not that we talk that often, because we don't. Because I'm the freak of the group that depresses everyone. And I don't do it intentionally, they don't understand that I think about this shit constantly because I honestly have nothing better to do. 
I'm growing more and more hateful towards everyone with each passing day, and I'm getting tired. But no one gives a shit. 
Like always.