I really never tell anybody the truth. The whole truth, that is. Nobody in my family really knows I'm gay, and because of my over active thinking, all I can think about is no one accepting me.
Happiness rarely sinks through, but when it does, it feels like a high. It feels like a drug I can't be without. Maybe that's an everybody kind of thing? I don't know. It when I'm depressed, I feel like I'm moving through syrup, slow and pointless.
I never really tell people everything about me because I'm terrified to be alone. But in the end, I put myself into this little corner to where no one else is with me. So basically, I'm my own problem. Kinda weird...
YOU ARE READING
Poetry... I guess...
PoetrySo, everyone has a poetry section of their personal page, so you know what? Why not make my own? Yes I know, basically bandwagoning (hopefully that is spelled correctly) on the whole thing, but oh well.
