Dear diary?Mature

Everyone knows but me. Noone knows but me. It's not just me who sees it, everyone sees it, noone sees it but me. I don't even dare to leave the house. I can't even go to the grocery store without thinking. You can get a stroke. It's not easy when it's like this. It's easy to locate yourself, to find a solution, it's hard to do something about it. I shouldn't be here. I should be with you. Do you like me? Even though I'm like this, even though I do this. Everyone knows. What am I even doing. I know. Is it just an act? NO. Then I wouldn't be sitting here, crying. Yes, I would. But I wouldn't be feeling it for real. Or maybe? How the fuck do I even know myself anymore. I'm the only one who knows what's real, but not even I can decipher dream and fantasy anymore. Fantasy and reality. What is freedom? Is it what I'm looking for, everyone knows. So then rest in that knowledge. Fly. If you touch me you can still put me back; it's a myth. Should I perform mutiny? Walk the plank. Flee the field. To greener grass. To where I want to be.

I had a little taste. I thrived. With you. With others, new. Uncensored. What do I mean by that? Unexcusing. Towards MYSELF. Accepting. This is what it is like. You know it, you see it. I know it, I see it. It's time to put it behind you, ground yourself in life instead. Like it is. I am what I am, I have no problem with that. Why do I have a problem with myself. It's so unnecessary. IT DOESN'T MATTER. "You're a natural." YES, I AM. It doesn't matter. So pick yourself up, for fucks sake. Stop it. Grow up, it's time. I love you. Fuck, I really do.

You know what you're lacking.

The End

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