I try to be as real as possible. My feelings however fuck me up. So I put a mask on when others are around.
When I'm alone, I curl up and cry.
I hope. Then I talk myself down by reminding myself that I'm not gonna fit the mold.
You wouldn't recognize me.
To an 6? 8 ?year old whom doesn't know of suicide and is forced to continue living every day as if their grandfather doesn't get them drunk and teach them to smoke pot till they cant move because it easier for a nasty old man to force his sick in an 8 year olds that quietly of she is so stoned she cant move, to continue to live day after day alone like this without knowing their was another way out as a depressed teenager would know they developed what is called disassociated depression..
Mean they dont get stuck in the bed for weeks ur they have learned to pretend their good. Less attention that way. Less hassle. Just appease everyone then you can escape into your book and go away to another world for a while.
I feel. Deadly. But my fear and old habits mask it.
So in the end all I get is hope. If others can believe in a God, why cant I hope that eventually I'll be good enough that someone will stop tearing down my walls and instead play a game of follow the leader out of my fucking dungeon? Show me how. Risk it first, cuz I can not.