i swear to fucking pita chips, people are so fucking stupid!
I wish I could say that this describes me.
At this point, I’m mentally BEGGING for you to read my blog. For the past five years, you’ve made my life a living HELL. And I’m so fucking sick of it! My first impression of you? Well, way to fucking ruin it. You slept with my dad the night I met you. You’re just delightful. I love my dad so I’ve put up with you all these years but I just can’t fucking take it anymore. Until my dad walked in and saw me crying I wasn’t coming back here. Just don’t expect me to fucking talk to you again. You’ve ruined my relationship with my dad. You deserve to burn in hell, but I’m not going to wish it on you, because you’re a waste of my time. I’m in physical pain because of the sobs that were racking my body. I almost passed out because I couldn’t breathe. And then Nina started crying because she saw how I was. I’m sick of being strong for my dad. It’s time for him to be strong for me. But no, he’s in too deep with you. I want to leave so badly, but I’m staying here for my dad. It’s only a few more years. I’ll keep telling myself that. It’s only a few more years.
Love and Hate,
I’ve been writing a lot lately. It kind of helps with everything… But at the same time everything kind of dawns on me. Here’s a story I just wrote because I’m bored and have way too much time to think.
I’m sick of hiding. But when you’ve been hiding all your life, you can’t just break away from that.
Am I happy? Am I sad? I just can’t tell. Can you? You see me in school and I have a confident smile plastered to my tired face. My clothes reflect a happy, carefree attitude. It’s all an act; a mask.
You pass by me in the hallway and label me in your head. I’m the cheery one. The peppy one. The ‘poser scene kid’. I’m the girl who’s actually happy, but pretends she’s not for attention.
But really, you’ve got it all wrong.
This is for the outcasts. For the ones who go through this every day. Being labeled like you’re a can of soup and yet nobody really knows the real you. I’m sick of wearing a mask, but I’m sick of your opinions. I shouldn’t care, but I do. It may not seem like it, but it hits me like a tsunami. And it hurts.
A girl can only take so much stress, so much drama, until the mask she wears starts to break and splinter.
On my right, there is a smile. Bright green eyes shine through and laughs seem to radiate off of an invisible source. Bright colors of clothes mesh together, not clashing, but making a statement; one that says “I just don’t give a care what you say anymore. This is me.”
But on my left, there’s no more mask. The frown lines show and sad eyes bore holes into your own. This is the look of a disaster. Any color that was once there, or shown on the right, gone; vanished. Dark washed, holy skinny jeans caress my legs and my black converse are worn with love, showing the care I have for my shoes. More care than they have for me. Clad in a ripped, distressed gray shirt that looks like it once had sparkles on it, the look has pathetic written all over it.
My facade is breaking; I have half a mask. But I’m sick of hiding, and I just want to rip it off.
I want to be me for once. See me for who I am.
Fictionpress and fanfiction have basically been my escape lately.
Dear Stef Khairallah, Maranda Cotto and Briana LaPegna,
There are soooo many friends that give me amazing memories. And I don’t have just one favorite. But you three are the ones that I ALWAYS have fun with. I always make great memories with each of you. Like Stef; Poor Amy was sitting on the toilet and didn’t expect a thing when we kicked the door open on her. And Maranda: NEE GAH! Not my fault, but it happened again yesterday. Ohhh boy. Briana: THE DAA. Need I say more? Point is, I love all of my friends, especially you guys. <3 So so so much!
P.S. PROMISE to always be my friends<3
We’ve been on a break for a while. And I think I’m ready to be with you again. I just don’t want (or need) to talk to you every moment of every day. I know that I do miss you. But until this damn thing on my face clears up, it AIN’T happening. Sorry, bud. Glad I went yesterday and I hope you like your present!
P.S. Sorry this is short, the medicine I’m on is NOT helping me think.
I miss you blog… but lately I just don’t know what to blog about. Everything’s just too personal… And I have SO many letters to do so I think I’m going to pick up after this week. I’m just too wiped out and I haven’t much time to compute. (THAT SOUNDED AWESOME.) I love you, blog!
Love and Elizabethian Speak,
P.S. You need a name..