Monday, 16 May 2011
08:17:01 PM (GMT)
So the eighth grade at my school has to write an essay, similar to a senior's
thesis, for graduation. And I will post what I write for that essay. It's just... my
answer to the question. The question is something like, "Who are you today, and how
did you come to be this way?"
Today, the more I thought about my answer, the more I hated myself. I'll vent about
it later. But I just feel like shit. I want to be elsewhere. I want solitude. But I
want to talk to my aunt. And I can't until the end of this week.
I just hate the way things are going for me. It's not... I just am not content with
myself. And there's no one but my aunt who really understands. I hate to say it, but
no one really actually knows me. There are tons of things that I don't tell people
because they're such secrets. My friends... I love them. I would probably take a
bullet for them. But I just feel so guilty that I can't confide in them like I can my
aunt. It kills me. Rips away the only feeling of hope.
Sorry for having to vent like this. They're all gonna hate me now. My friends. I'm
sorry, guys. I really do love you. Don't forget it.
Agh. I'm gonna stay up late tonight.
Sorry. I'm really, truly, sorry.