I'm a liar. I'm getting so good at it. People always believe me but now I can't trust myself.
I'm a thief, but I only take what I need.
I'm emotionless. But I am a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.
I'm a daydreamer.
I confuse what is a dream and what is reality.
My mind floods with thoughts but I couldn't tell you what's wrong for the life of me.
For the lack of life in me.
I am not walking the earth, I am floating above it. Weeks go by and I'm still stuck in that fateful day in January when the ground under me vaporized. Now, which day in January, I could not tell you. I could not tell you the week, or the year.
Thousands of days have passed. I'd do anything to feel pain again. To feel love. Affection. Anger.
Every day is exactly the fucking same. Going through the normal notions of a teenager.
Teenagers who are in touch with the world. So concerned about what's going on around them, but they are all connected.
They are a system of uneducated opinions and useless trig problems, aware of the bullshit the politicians speak and the latest gossip of their friendship circles.
So young and reckless and full of life. The stoners, the cheerleaders, the grocery baggers, the jordan wearers, the teachers pets, the over texters, the over hashtaggers, the snapchat whores,
More and more labels to stick on you and more shelves to stack you on.
But the stockers don't know what to do with me.
I am many things, but I am not real.
I have lost touch of everything that makes me feel human, and for that,
I am nothing.
YOU ARE READING
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Randomrants. poetry. life theories. philosophy. scraping the corners of my mind for words to put on digital paper. an informative guide. updated triweekly Most importantly, how I'm coping with mental illness and surviving the lowest point in my entire lif...
