As I grew up, I taught myself I was a failure. And overtime, it's a feeling you get used to. When you do something good, you know that somebody did GREAT.
That's how I felt; I always had that little thread in my brain that quilted bigger problems. The thread was my social anxiety and my depression. Maybe that is what I should tell me therapist.
But screw therapists. My parents are paying money for these people to help me and I'm still the same. I'm still the same old 16 year old Brooke, struggling in school, struggling on friends, struggling on life. And there isn't a damn thing I could ever do about it.
My parents say it's not good to have no friends. No shit. The people on the public school I go to hang out after school, and then there's me who contrasts from that. I go home, lock all the locks in my room, put on my music and escape the world. This was my normal routine until something changed. Something that probably changed my whole life.
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The sad ones
Teen FictionSilent she would be. Silent at school, silent at home; silent. No one could understand why, or how. How could she survive? You should ask her
