Change
Change…that’s a word I’ve heard a lot lately. Not only have I been submitted to the desperation and horror of the “becoming a woman” speech, but also I’ve watched the world around me self-destruct. Some have evolved for the best; others yielding to its converse, but then again no one can really judge the difference between good and evil. I seriously feel like if my life were a teen drama series, the only difference is that my life is very existent. Above all the pain, deception, and deceit are authentic in every twine.
Let me summarize my past three months with a couple of sentences to show you the wonders of growing up. I’ve lost life long friendships, and had to help my friend take a pregnancy test. I’ve met this really nice boy that is trying to overcome his past with witchcraft. I’ve met a friend that likes to get in touch with his feminine side by taking care of plants (take a guess what plant in specific). A friend of mine is finally being affected in not being able to do normal things like dating because she’s a little person. And above all I have managed to drive away anyone important in my life all by myself.
The sad thing is that I myself have nothing to live for. Of course the everlasting feeling of emptiness, the remainder of that dried up hope! No drama or reality show is completed without it. It’s weird, change is supposed to be a good thing, but it’s like I woke up one morning and I wasn’t a kid anymore. I was something worse, something impure, something complicated and ugly. I was or am becoming what you call an adult. I don’t want to be an adult; I don’t want to deal with this crap everyday. I don’t know what I want; I have no purpose for my life. There is nothing for me here and I doubt there will ever be. Sure I’ve told my parents to move, but they don’t listen. For some things I’m a grown up and then for others that really matter like my stability I’m just some whiny little girl trying to get attention. Well I’m sorry if I ever brought you trouble. I’m simply sick of this game full of bad luck, falsehood, and wretchedness. All I want is to be emotionally stable in order to confront certain things I must tackle. I don’t want to be a coward, but there are times where there is no other choice but to be one. It’s a pity really.
One thing doesn’t seem to change at all, that of course is my luck. I always end up the most fucked up. I always end up the one that is hurt. Somehow my days always end up in tears. If I were selfish or if I had something to trust I would simply ask of them to look into my swollen irritated brown eyes and say that everything is going to be okay in the end, even if it’s a lie.
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