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This was the first personal journal entry I ever written and have shared with no one ever.


I can feel it. It's inside me.
The past has secreated itself within me. And I don't know what to do.
No one beleives I need help. Those people haven't seen me. Sometimes I don't beleive I do.
But I do know this.
I need a friend.
Someone like me, someone who understands me. It would be nice to hear for once, "I'm glad you're feeling alright!"
My so-called 'friends' don't understand me.
But it isn't their fault.
It's mine.
I want to be heard by someone who cares.
I don't want to see someone I was talking to walk away talking to someone else. No.
It's all my fault. I don't have the confidence or the brain to make friends.
I don't have much of a life outside school or home.
But the thing that's in me is my anger. My hatred. Trying to hold it back is taking a toll on me physically and mentally.
Words spoken in a certain way can trigger it. Words that remind me of Jr. High. The harassers.
I seriously regret not saying or doing anything. I am always ignored.
I've seen people say hi across to someone and everyone saying hi back.
I try it and half the time not even the person I was trying to talk to says anything.
Now I get really true.
I am a stupid wall ordament. Only there to make a number even. Also the excess string on a wool shirt that will one day be pulled out.
This life for me is gone. All I have is my imagination. Where I can be by myself and dream...