Poison-Ink

1

a 22-year-old chick from her imagination

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Jessica. Writer. Reader. Actor. Friend.

Call me what you will - I'll only hide the pain and use it against you later. Yeah, I'm one of the girls that cares what they look like (not that we'll tell you).

Look into my eyes - tell me if I'm lying to you. I'm honest. I'm shy. I'm quiet.

But I'm a liar. I'm outgoing. I'm loud.

Two sides. Two people. One person. Why am I not imploding? Control. For the whole of my life, I've controlled every factor that becomes an obstacle. Friends, enemies, family, school - the lot. Until now.

I write songs - angry, sad, happy - when I feel. A rap song for my parents when I'm furious. A triumphant one when I discover a secret. A broken one when I'm grieving.

I'm patient - until you stab me. I'm nice - until you hurt me. I'm calm - until it comes to my friends.

I'm loyal, trustworthy, friendly and warm to those that know me. They decide whether they get on my bad side - I don't have bad friends. I have enemies. Means I stood up for something in my life, doesn't it?

I'll write in broken sentences; most things won't make sense. Lot like my brain, darlings. Enjoy it or not - I don't care.

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