Puff, Puff, Pass.

Exactly one year and seven days ago I started dating a boy.

Man I guess.

Almost two weeks ago, I failed that.

I'm such a kid.

I don't know what I want.

I fell in love, and I failed.

I wasted it.

I broke a heart.

Another heart.

Before I was talking about abusing the right to be hurt...

I abuse the right to be loved.

I take all the love I get, and I ignore it.

You can tell me all the wonderful things about me, and still, I will never be good enough to fully accept someone elses love.

I will reject it.

I know I'm crazy.

But, I keep proving it to myself.

I'm loosing me in all this mess.

I'm letting it roll off my shoulders and consume me all at the same time.

I'm a mess.

But, Fuck it Jami... You have drugs.

Because... I hate you too.

So, Big girl, Maybe you don't have MRSA.

Who really gives a fuck.

You are almost an adult. But, you still call on Mommy and Daddy.

You don't need protection bitch.

At least you didn't.

You might want to consider it now.

You can't abuse the right to be hurt.

You can't abuse the right to be hurt.

Eventually, no one will believe you anymore.

Guess what?

No one believes you anymore.

Cry.

You've aborted away all your friends.

Thanks for letting everyone into your life.

It just let them hate you more.

Not everyone wanted to know your personal buisiness.

Personal.

To yourself.

I don't want to hear your drama bullshit or watch your parents fuck you up even more.

Tell them to go away.

Go the fuck back home where you belong.

Fight your battles.

Become a stronger person.

Do you want me to write down every hurtful thing someone has said to me?

I could fill novels.

But, you would never know.

Because I don't abuse the right to be hurt.

I let it go.

I fight it myself.

I suggest you start doing the same before you do take mommy's advice and bring a gun to school.

Mommy Dearest.

Everything I do isn't ment to offend you. Everything I do isn't ment to be your buisiness. Everything I do is not with you in mind. Everything I do is directly related to my life, not yours. Fuck you when you say I'm not good enough. Fuck the fact that all you notice are my failures and mistakes. Fuck that you dictate if I'm to old or to young to do things. Fuck you, if you think you know me.
I'm tired of constantly not living up to your standards. I can do all the good in the world, but the only thing you'll notice are the mistakes I make. If all you notice are the mistakes, what makes me want to do any good. Nothing. Nothing about you makes me want to do any good. I'm a failure. You've made it clear. You certainly made it clear to the stranger you told I was a failure. All you do is hurt me. And make me feel inadequate. You say that's not true. But, I'm the one who feels it. It's so true. This isn't where I want to be. There's so many things I could be doing with my life without your hand by my side. Your hand doesn't guide. It drags.
Why do you have the need to tell me all I should be doing at every hour of the day. Even when your not here. I sit at 'home' by myself everyday and wait for you to notice me. By the way. It rairly ever happens.
When you do pay attention to me. It's only because you have something you want to talk about. Except... I'm not allowed to not care. I'm not allowed to feed back. I'm not allowed to speak unless you deem it acceptable and appropriate. I can't trust what you say. You're a lying backstabbing bitch. You actually search for reasons to yell. Reasons to hate me. Reasons that further prove I'm a fuck up. I get it, mom. I am a fuck up. I get it. Please, stop telling me.
Fuck you and your hovering.
Fuck you and your rules.
Fuck you and your high horse.
Fuck you and your emotions.
Fuck me.
Fuck me.
Fuck the fact that you can't let me be myself.
I am not good enough.
I am not good enough.
I will never be good enough.
You will always be superior to me.
Love you mommy.
You certainly make all my days.

Starting over.

I've recently deleted my blog that I kept for over two years. I couldn't write anymore. Everything I had to say had been writen down, and taken out of me. And, I felt it was time to start over. It's taken some time, but, I'm doing it now. I'm starting over. And this time, it won't be fake.

This is for me. Everything I do is always for other people, and now, here, I don't care about that. This is for me.

I know I'm not talented, but I love to write. I've always wanted to make something of that love, I know that won't happen. Here... I want to share the things I've written, without questions or changes. I want to express myself, how I feel. Without explination.

So, I don't know any better way to start this... than with something I wrote the other day...

*

*

All my friends have died now.

Both literally and not.

Drifting through the world alone.

Trying not to get caught.

I am the one that cried for you.

When everyone went away.

I was the only one,

Who could lead myself astray.

I left the beaten path for you.

A dirt road gave me joy.

I followed it for miles.

My body was a toy.

There's a sickness in my stomache now.

A sharp pain rips into my chest.

The lonlieness that walked me here.

Has left me a fucking mess.

To far gone to turn around.

Quicksand eats me whole.

My memories still haunting me.

My body and my soul.

You're ghost still very real to me.

But, I know that you can't help.

Fuck this life and Fuck this mess...

I'll take what I have delt.