I am smart and proud.

I wonder what you think of me, if you think anything...but then again, do I really care? I do. And I shouldn't.

I hear Gavin DeGraw covering up the harmonious background of the soft, silent wind rustling the giant tree outside.

I see the orange cat jumping off the windowsill, oblivious to the rodent's mysterious yet eternal disappearance.

I want to love and to be loved with the intensity of a thousand burning stars up there in our dark sky.

I am smart and proud.

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I pretend I'm always dandy when inside I'm slowly crumbling. But pain makes us strong, right?

I feel like there's almost nowhere to go from here.

I touch my keyboard, not really thinking; not coming up with any great analogies because I'm "only" smart--not a genius.

I worry that maybe something will happen tomorrow or the next day or the next, something worse than death if possible...

I cry when I think of all the things that have happened and all the things that have so drastically spun my life in this direction, and only in the past year.

I am smart and proud.

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I understand now that it's impossible for everyone to be the pretty model / actress / singer / writer / socialite on the cover of that 3-dollar magazine.

I say somebody is anybody, and anybody is nobody, though nobody is, in all reality, somebody, but not somebody specifically, since somebody is everybody, or at least, what everybody wants to be.

I dream of excelling and of having my own emo guy, though that's only in my dreams.

I hope spiders don't attack me tonight, on account of that would be a shame, plus it would probably put me six feet under from fear.

I am smart and proud.