That Girl

My name's Sky. I've smoked weed before, even kissed with it. I've cut myself before, even fifty stings of slit. But I'm not a bad person. I don't scream at my parents, I listen to them. I don't party every weekend, I stay at home and study. I don't take regular classes, I take advanced placement and honors classes. I'm not popular, I'm alone.

Am I still a bad person? Even if that signifies me, everything has a reason that's why they either happen or exist. Afterall, I'm only human. What am I even trying to say? I just think sometimes there isn't any reason for me to live anymore. It's one of those feelings no one else can understand.

You can't explain it. It just fills you up inside until you just have to go lock yourself in your room, shut the curtains, blast up your music, throw yourself in your bed, and cry then sleep all day. I drive myself crazy just thinking about it. I can't even have friends because I end up driving them away as well.

"What's wrong with me?" most of us say. But then we get over it. Not as easy, but just as difficult as the times we've been through it.

And all I want is to be alone, of course you'll feel lonely. And all I want is to part myself from the rest of the world, just so everyone else can be happy, somehow. If it even makes a difference since we were born.

People may call me, "crazy, emo, mentally insane." I just think I'm psychologically damaged. Human emotions, friendships, relationships, create a bond, yet they can also destroy. We're on the thin line between love and hate. Most of the time we don't even know it. And I'm nowhere in that line. I'm nothing but the blankness of a piece of printer paper, or this article I'm writing to you now.

This is where it begins. My life as Sky.

This is where I belong right? A school where only boys belong to, a rich school.