I'm done making promises.

I'm done making  promises that I don't know that I'll keep. I'm done disappointing other people, let alone myself, and letting it get to me. I am living. That is it. I can't do anymore than that and if you expect anymore from me, that's your problem. I'm sorry. I can't be anything anymore. I have been telling myself for a long time that not caring will only make things worse for me, and that's the truth, but I physically, emotionally, and spiritually can not bring myself to care anymore. I can't. It's not that I won't, or that I won't try, but I don't know that I can anymore. It's simply too hard...





I've lost.

Can I Have Another New Life Please?

I feel like Hilary Duff in The Perfect Man... I could get so caught up in new places if I let myself. That's one thing I know I good at: running. And yes, I'm coming to terms with the fact that that's what I'm doing. Maybe I should want to change it, but right now I don't want to. I'm messed up... I keep saying that and telling  people that. But no one believes me. Do I seem alright? If so, you'd be wrong. Sometimes I want to die young. I do. I don't want to deal with this stuff for another 70 years or so. Does it get better? I've always heard that it doesn't get any better. Heck, from my experience, it's gotten worse. "Highschool never ends," right? I'm wandering in a sea of jelly that doesn't taste good at all and holds me back more than anything. I should have gone to school today. Bahahahaha, I woke up this morning with 69 text messages. It's still the best part of my day so far. Alright, time to go to sleep.

Signed,
Another Blogger.