Everything feels like it’s coming unstitched.
It was so well put together but all of those stitches that I so carefully placed are becoming undone.
I feel so ridiculous and empty and terrible.
I just feel terrible.
I can’t keep living a fake life, but I have no other option. What am I gonna do, run away to camp?
I know it’s not the real me. But, do I really? It’s becoming the real me because it’s so constant. The other me is just becoming a more "socially awesome penguin" that only comes out at partays and such, not necessarily more real than this me.
"I keep on running but I can’t keep going on this way." But I don’t have a choice!
Either go back to being a miserable goody-goody or continue being a distanced ball of anguish.
I am also really scared. I have NO idea of what I want to do all day every day when I become an adult. I am only 16; I shouldn’t have to have any idea yet! But I ought to know what college I want to go to.
Have I dragged myself along the wrong path?
The only thing about me that has ever stayed constant is that I change. I can never be a consistent person. And I fucking hate it. I am sick of being a ball of clay- moldable by anyone. Able to turn into anything. It’s time for me to go into the kiln. But I did. Or at least I am on my way. I know I am not moldable anymore. But I don’t exactly know what I am. Am I a weirdly short vase or an unfittingly tall drinking glass? Am I not either of those; just being looked at from the wrong perspective?
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The Diary
PoetryAs if the first kiss story wasn't personal enough, here's my virtual diary! I named it after the Hollywood Undead song. This will be my way of venting out to the world, and I seem to have a knack for extended metaphors. I have always written privat...
