Suffocation

I suffocate. Not physically, or else I would be dying. But in my mind, I'm suffocating from all of the thoughts that race through my head. On the outside, I'm a quirky, nerdy, happy looking girl. But on the inside I'm dying. Why do I even care to write this crap? Well, because I'm tired of using up my notebook paper and all my graphite in my mechanical pencils. I know. I'm messed up. If you've read my other crappy stories about my life, you know that I'm a mess. But you know what they say sometimes: Sad, depressing things about your life sometimes makes an interesting story. What a lie. Screw it. I'm writing and keeping it up on Wattpad for prying eyes to judge and make fun of. I don't care what you think or say. I'm suffocating, and writing it all out helps my pain slightly go away.