Diary

Chapter 1 Introduction

I was about 12 years old when I first started writing in this Diary. It is super cringey, like, I was a weird kid, guys, seriously. I will try to fix up grammar and spelling a bit, but for authenticity purposes I will not be fixing everything. -->

If anybody finds this you are lucky. This is going to be my secret life, where I can be whatever I want whatever I want and whoever I want. I am now nameless. Writing is my way of fighting. It is my escape from this hell that we call living. If this is life then what is hell? I mean seriously what could be so bad it is worse than this? We are all terrible people in a terrible world. I don't care what happens to me but I hope my writing leaves footprints in the metaphorical sand of life even though they will be washed away with the waves they can't be gone for good right? Lately I wonder if my footprints will go away and maybe they are gone forever. Then does that mean that they are gone forever? I am 12 years old and I still think that humans are a waste of time. That is why I like pretending I am something else like a vampire or some type of thing that is fake. It makes me feel better.

You see I used to have a problem. I was addicted to pretending I was something else. Eventually I became so good I fooled myself but then I noticed the similarities between lying and pretending so I tried to stop. I couldn't, and soon I realized I was uncontrollably lying. Why me ? It hurt. Later I stopped thinking just going with what my life had planned for me. It was like being on autopilot not actually thinking just coloring inside the lines. One year I met two girls one was Macy and the other was Loralie. We went to Emerald Elementary School, and we came up with this thing and then autopilot turned off and I was in control. I could be what I wanted to be without lying. All I had to do was say it was a game but too me it was not a game. it was as real as the air I breathed or the god we believed in. This game was my life necessity. Without it I thought I would not only die but suffer as well. I feel like I can't fight but I want too.

This story is not like others it is my complete and utter feelings happy, sad, anger, and fear. I feel so lost. It hurts me to think that I am meaningless but I am not like other people where I can just look at the bright side. I can't see the bright side even when I look for it with all of my strength and will. It always escapes I can't keep pretending forever that's what the people inside my head say.

Now before you think I am crazy, I will have you know everyone has voices inside their head it makes them do things even things they don't want to do, bad or good right or wrong, perfect or imperfect. I want to pretend forever it ... It feels good to pretend but it hurts to be in the real world but it gets easier. The longer I stay in the real world, the more I forget about my pretend world. Friends also pull me away from the pretend world but that does not mean I want to be in the real world. I fear I will forget about the pretend world and then be locked out of the pretend world.

So, I will write because by writing I am putting memories of the pretend world into the real world. This will help the pretend world stay alive and so that's how writing for me is fighting. Maybe I don't use a gun to fight and maybe I don't get hit with bullets. But I fight with paper and pencil or computer and I get hit with criticism and fear. I hope that by the time someone finds this I am dead. This is my life on paper. It is not the story of my life, this is my life.

<--- And here in the present I blatantly spit on past me's wishes by publishing this on Wattpad only six years later