I'm shocked that you still haven't seen through my shit, when I nod my head and act like I know things I don't, trying to prove to myself that I’m an interesting person, but I’ll openly admit that I’m not. Just like you openly admit you try to be cool with your lack of care for school and your spool of higher thoughts and problems, charming anyone who has a brain and does not have a great...

I feel like someone is taking my collar and grabbing my wrists and pulling me, but there’s no blindfold, I can see everything around me and I have some control, like I can make choices and each one I make will steer- but there is no compass or crystal ball. But I can’t help but wonder, there, in the back of my head, is there any control? Is there any way I can make a difference? I believe in...

You say it’s okay and make-ups are all done, but if you think about it, the feeling you had of disappointment or anger will never be forgotten even as remorse or happiness comes soon after, because there is no time machine, just words and discoveries that coax us and make us think we changed the past – but I know the truth and how you feel because I am brilliant or maybe just a fool- I see all...

It's not a question of love because I know a boy like that could never sweep me off my feet, but I feel like I’ve used and been used like I’ve taken advantage over a state or like I got my hopes up over new people, new experiences; like I felt liked, so I played on it and tried to get more but kept getting less. And I say to myself what a drunk person says is what they are really thinking and...

People talk about diseases, problems, disorders like they know them. But I know they couldn't know even the slightest. Something like that you barely even know you have, it's impossible to tell. Even when you have it, it's like a ghost, something that makes you ask yourself, "Is it there? Or am I just imagining it and trying to make something out of nothing?" When it becomes out of control, those...

**All these all old rants are found in my dirty, filled and torn notebook laying under my mattress.I don't do things because I think it will matter later on, in the way that it will make me shake my head and shut my eyes and scream into my fists, but if I really think about it - would I even remember? My memory's so bad already. I don't think I'll even care. Funny how I think I know myself so...

You know how it feels when you find something you had interest in so long ago, and in turn of finding said thing you become enthralled with it again?Recently, lying in bed like Jabba-the-hut and writing meaningless verses and poetry in my melting brain, I've been trying to find a place to put it all. And whad-ya-know! I remember mibba. Brilliant.I found a comment that someone left me a year ago,...