2013-10-18 21:00:54 (UTC)

Cancer? Cancer.

"All I Wanted" by Paramore

[I've probably posted this song several times but it expresses my pain so fuck it]

9:54 PM

I texted Lily as soon as dad told us saying I needed to tell her something but I knew from the start I could only tell her in person. It feels wrong to say things like that through a phone. Also if she can see my face, she can tell that it will all be okay.

At the same time, maybe I shouldn't tell her at all. Maybe I shouldn't tell anyone.

When I told her I didn't want to say it through the phone she said that was okay told me not to forget to tell her though.

I wanted her to text me like, BABES TELL ME NOW or BABES COME HERE AND TELL ME

But my fantasy worlds don't reach past my mind... I actually feel kind of worn out from the days stress. It's friday, but I don't think I want to stay up late tonight.

The night times were always when my worst was revealed. The most blood was shed under the light of the moon.

I can not stay up all night with this thought in my head. Cancer.

I don't know if anyone has noticed but my positivity has been declining over the weeks. I've been mean to myself. Telling myself I'm ugly and worthless and awkward and un-loveable.

While I still believe it to be true, I need to stop. This is what almost killed me. I need to be strong. I can't wane as the moon does. I can't crumble under the pressure of time.

All I wanted was for the loneliness to stop. It's not going to stop. I can be my own best friend, though. I fail to mention that there are parts of myself I love. I love my fashion sense, I love that I am a vegetarian, I love trying to be healthy, I love being able to play piano and ukulele, I love my interests, I love my art abilities.

I really hate my appearance and how others perceive me to be. Sometimes I know that I could be everything a guy could want if I was given a chance and then other times, I feel like I'm five... I want the boys to stay away, don't touch me, don't talk to me.

Why do I feel so guilty when love comes a little closer? Why do I feel like I've been taken back years to my elementary school days when boys were ew?

That is something I will discuss with Pat this week at my appointment. Did I cripple myself? Did I scare myself bad enough to scar me for a short lifetime?

It's so hard to step out of the skin of this girl I've held onto to tightly. She's sad. She's so sad. She has scars. She wears sweaters. She's shy. She thinks no one wants her.

I can't stop thinking like her... well, me. I believe I am her for awhile but when I look inside me I see something stronger, and then this huge ball of lies that control me and twist me. I feel guilty without knowing why because I don't know when I'm lying.

I don't know the truth from a pile of shit anymore.

On that lovely sentiment, I'm going to remind myself I'm not sixty years old. I am fourteen. I am a girl. Fourteen year old girls should be happy and should be social. Anxiety stops me from doing... everything.

Goodnight, full moon. Goodnight, self. Goodnight, no one.

The ghosts in me are moaning.

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