There are days

that i don't want to talk, don't want to keep up the appearance of everything you want me to be. and that's when i don't reply to your texts. don't respond in a conversation inducing tone. I'm wrapped up in some things too, and trying to unfold myself too. Not in everyone's "I'm independent, I'm fine alone, fuck you. " way I've been hearing more and more on here. No, it's more of the, "I'm just going to figure this out, i really don't need your help. you kind of really just harm." I just don't see the point of your shit. Your words yelling at me, because I'm trying, i have a lot... ALOT on my mind. and out of everyone you guys should understand that. That, i need my space to figure myself out, yes, yes, i want to be with you. Yes, i want to help you, yes, I'm back and in black, and whatever else. But i need sometime, to unwind, and i'll be there, i swear at 11 pm. and then at 1am. but, you have to understand, till then i need a face to get through the day, and to keep myself from biting my lip till it bleeds. because this bullshit is getting way too far out of hand. By alll means, don't think this is directed at just you, it's directed at Laura, at Michael, at everyone.

See, i'm calm, cool, fine alllll day through school. But then, at night, i'm restless.My fingers and body quivers, and once 10 rolls around i don't know where the ground is. My knees ache, and i can't stay still. It's a big thing that when i do fall asleep i stay asleep. Because, night is a whole new ball game, it's a 180 turn from the day, and it's where i listen to the music i legitly love. the thoguhts that are in their closets come out. and i'm not frozen, bubbly, and plastic anymore. it's not such a force to be normal. because at night i can give in to the heaving in my chest. Either way. it's a place, where the day me can roll away, and i can be honets with myself to a full extent.

I really don't want you to rememeber me as the girl you see at school, or just how i look when you see me day to day. if you remember me, remember me as beautiful cuts, blue eyes, my words, journals, and my worst days.