A Diary of Sorts

Paradox

I’m only fifteen and I’m kinda glad I don’t know who I am. Everyone tries to label me or define me. But they’re all wrong. There’s not one adjective to define me. Matter of fact, not even a string of a hundred adjectives will describe me. I’m too complex, weird, mean, bitchy, cold, warm. And that’s not even the half of it. I’m a walking paradox and I like that about myself. I keep people guessing, and I keep them interested. So what if my personality is too much for some people to handle. There’s obviously people out there who can handle me. Then again my ass is FOREVER ALONE! But it’s not because I can’t find a guy to like me. Trust me I can. I just, I’m afraid. Afraid of everything and afraid of nothing. Paradoxical.

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This will be a series of short chapters. This way I'll be able to update more and have more things to say