Akwardness.

Apr 24, 2006 16:39



I'm confused.
I'm so confused.
I don't know; I don't know anymore.

I probably won't feel like this tomorrow,
but this is how I feel right now.
And right now is all that seems to matter.

I'm easily addicted.
Not to things, but to people.
I get addicted, and once I've had enough,
I throw them out.
I'm sorry.

I'm not myself anymore.
I'm stuck.
I've changed.
And I'm scared.

Because I like my piercings, I can't fit in with a certain group. This horrifies me. It's not that I want to "fit in" with Polo Shirts and Golf Shorts; It's that I'm scared. That used to be me. I was Ralph Lauren, I was Lacoste, I was Miss Pretty Perfect.

But you see, Miss Pretty Perfect Lacoste isn't who you think she is. Miss Pretty gets drunk. Miss Pretty uses all of her money on silly clothes and stupid drugs. Miss Pretty Perfect gets sad and simply pops pills to forget what she's made of her life. Miss Pretty screws up and then goes to Church on Sunday morning looking all pretty.

I'm not her anymore.
But I love who I am right now.
I'm so happy with myself.
My septum excites me,
I can't help it.

It's all so clear to me.
I do believe that I am one of the nicest people on this earth. Nice, meaning: Accepting, Forgiving, Easygoing, and Open-Minded. So why are mothers scared of me? ................Exactly: My Appearance.

It's not that I am scary.
At all.
Even when I am sad,
I walk around with a smile on my face.
How is that scary?
It's that maybe my super cool Vans,
My band t-s,
my boyfriends who color their hair more than me
that represent something scary to close-minded people.

Don't you get it, mother:
No, they do not represent me.
I represent me. Me. Me. Me.
Why are you judging me?
Why are you judging at all?

Who are you to judge.
Who are we to judge.

It's so clear now.
[from a Christian perspective atleast]
I am not here to judge,
You are not here to judge,
because He is already up there judging.

It scares me to remember.
It scares me to regret.

I've made stupid mistakes.
I want to rid myself of them all,
but I can't.
I feel disgusting,
Abused. I've been raped of my own insanity.

I hate hiding inside of myself.
I hate it.
I really do.
I know I say I don't hate,
but I hate this.
I hate hiding.

So be Free right?
Well..I'm trying.
I think the road to freedom is a long one...
a really, really long one.


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