FUCKING SWARE ON IT!;

"I sware."

Home alone.

I don't know if it's the fact that I'm home alone, and I'm able to think out loud, or if it's just...actually, me.

I know I might not be the most decisive person out there, but I know what I love. I know I love what photography captures, and I know I love what you can say with pen and paper. I know I love that, hectic world; the fashion world. And I know, that's where I belong.

there are nothing but, discourages my way. I need this, and I need that, to be in...my world.

watch. just watch.

This, is hate.

I hate putting this, show on for everybody. I suppose I only need attention.

since I had none, from no family growing up. I don't even know what it's like to celerate a birthday; one dinner of my choice, the way it's supposed to be, is all I asked for.

they say, they're here, I can tell them anything; but it's useless. They all say the same shit.

This is hate, I swear this is hate. Hate towards everything, and I mean everything. Hate towards these walls sorrounding me; I swear, they speak words of discouragement. Hate towards the mountains around this damn valley; such beauty, such scenery, makes me feel so small, so ugly. I have hate towards love, and I begin to think lust is better. all because, my father only shows love to alcohol, and isn't man enough to admit it.

I hate this damned phone, worst of all. For almost Ten years, they have ruined me; they destroyed me. They destroyed me with the fear I had at 3 AM; I didn't want to be called worthless. I didn't want to know, I couldn't amount to anything.

Thank you dad. Thank you for it all. Thank you for showing what pain really is. Thank you.

wait,

no fuck you dad. Fuck you for the drugs, and the cuts. fuck you dad; fuck you very much.

_____0237

Its been a while, since I've been kissed by this emotion. Its been a while, since I haven't been able to explain...anything. Its been a while, since I've actually questioned, if I'm being myself; or more importantly, why I'm not being myself.

Maybe, I'm over reacting. Maybe, I really can be made up of indie music, coffee shops, journals, and flannels throughout the day. And maybe, I can be made up of neon colors, happy pills, electronica, and dance throughout the night.

I don't know how many times I've repeated, "This time, I'm really changing. No strings attached, only happiness". And it's getting old. But, I occasionally...fool myself.

Since you, you asshole, I haven't felt, the same. As disappointing and wrong as it seems. Damn, am I disappointed. But that goes to show you, I'm still here, and you weren't the last. Just like I wasn't your last.

I'm sorrounded with sunlight through my wooden blinds, unfolded blankets, pillows, and by the sound of a piano, sitting...thinking. In Four days, I can show you I'm still alive after 1 year without you.

You asshole.

If I was made up of what you wanted me to be, then what am I now?

That my friend, is where the confusion comes from.

Like Diamonds.

Teenage love, is over rated. I just realized no more than a couple of months ago. So, I decided to finally live.

I can count the ones I "like", with a whole hand, but there's one.

There's one, one that's sticking out. There's one, that won't leave me. There's one, that's taking the quoations off.

We might have a problem here.

This phobia.

I'm Eremophobic.

It's not something I love, it's not something I choose, and it's not something I say just to seem "emotionally disturbed."

(Why the fuck would I be proud of that?)

Sometimes, I can't sleep. I think about it all, about all that lead to this phobia.

They don't get why I can't do something so simple, like walking alone. I never understood why I feared my own escape world; there were no others there with me.

I enjoyed sharp objects, because at least I didn't cry alone; they made me cry.

I hate this fucking hellhole, because I need more people.

Small clues, lead up to making me.

Repeat.

You damn, secretive sin.