Around the end of 8th grade, maybe even the beginning of ninth, I got in a really bad mood stage. That's what I called it, because I had never actually experienced that feeling before. It wasn't sorrow, nor was it guilt. It wasn't sadness, or pity-ness. I couldn't figure out what it was, but I just know things got hard, real hard. I started keeping things to myself, crying at night, and smiling the next morning. It became routine. I felt like I was in pity bitch army or some shit. I remember my cousin always wanting to take me to church, so I would go, and I loved it. I even started hating that, literally I HATED church. One morning I was getting dressed for church, and I was straightening my hair, and the straightener fell on my arm. See a normal person would be like "ouch, let me get that off", me? Nope. My dumb ass decided to hold it. It burnt like a son of a bitch, and it felt great. Now you're probably thinking I'm a freak, well I am. So deal with it. Anyways, that was probably the very beginning of all of my problems led up to today.
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Apprehension and Sorrow
RandomThis isn't a story. Its a dialogue. That's a fancy word for "keeping up with my shit in a book". No, but it is like a journal type thing. not meant to be read, but feel free I don't give a fuck, and I don't know you. So no harm done, right? Wrong.
