Nobody believes in me. 

What I need is someone to believe in me; in what I can do, in my talents, in my abilities. But they see me only as what they have predetermined as me. They will not allow me to take flight, they will hold on until I'm no longer strong enough to fly away. My wings will wither and I, a jejune bird, will die in an inhumanely small cage. 

I thought that my life had turned around and I was being given a chance at normality. When suddenly, the hands, the black, slimy, vise-like hands of those unseen monsters gripped my skin. I shuddered and moaned at their touch, the all too familiar feeling of falling into comatose darkness enveloping me. The more you struggle, the more you begin to realize they are in your bones. A part of you, eating you from the inside, there is no escape.  

He is fucking annoying. His voice grates against my eardrums. Go away.

Blood

I met a girl who has never known her father. I know him as my uncle. Every trait was his, her nose, her mouth, her eyes, her chin...she was his. Her adventurous spirit, the way her emotions threatened to spill out, and the way she sighed when she tried to hold back tears. That she would have the same outward appearance is not abnormal, but to share the same passions, it is uncanny. She said her mother was a prissy city girl and she never knew why she had such a desire for adventure.
Last night, she found the reason.

"I was always an unusual girl.

My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality;

just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean..."

-Lana Del Rey

Anxiety, climbing to an ultrasonic high. Depression, falling to an infrasonic low. Hold me down, make me see sense. Look at me, before I disappear altogether. Am I so poisonous? 

Maybe she is fed up with me, she knows, as I know, how much better I could do. Yet, ever does the cage around me hold its place. No wrath, no shaking will bring it down. 

I feel ill with the belittling way I treat myself. I'm so tired of trying. I'm so tired of my self-hate.

I am afraid. 

Afraid of growing up. 

Being held responsible for actions and words. 

Responsibility.

 The real test of strength and bravery. 

I am a coward.