Most of the days I spend are never filled with excitement. The most I get are of an activity done in class or a small class party.
What's the point?
I'm never too sure. I'm never going to understand who I really am. I'll never understand what I've become.
Despite the constant attention I still feel down.
I feel like hurting myself again.
I want to.
I just have so much to hide from these people that it's nearly impossible.
I'm fucked in the head, like usual.
I dont want to show this side of me.
Nobody needs to know this side of me.
I fucked up.
I let myself slip and I fell a little bit.
Oh well.
I guess I'll just wait.
Not for too long.
YOU ARE READING
Dreams Over Reality
PoetryA compliation of poems and skits. The skits are no longer being continued. Most poems are about me and the events around me. Read my story This is my story.
