Author: K's Moonshadow PM
Thinking about why I write all the time, what purpose journals have held for me. Just a short thing, but it's still painful... R&R PG bc of 1 cuss wordRated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst - Words: 165 - Reviews: 3 - Published: 03-23-05 - Status: Complete - id: 1866245
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I used to want to write everything down all the time, just in case I said something intuitive or somewhat logical and intelligent. That way when I was older, I could read back over them and go, "There! Right there! That proves it! I was smarter than they thought! I was better than they said! Not everything they said was true! I'm worth more than what they paid! I deserved more than what I got! I wasn't just a normal fuckin' self-righteous teenager! There was something else, something more!" But it never happened. I've never been profound. I'll never prove them wrong. And now I'm tired. Tired of thinking, of writing, of living, of breathing. I'm just tired. And it's all pointless anyway: because I'm only everything they've said and made me out to be. It's the only thing I'll ever be because I'm too tired to fight back.