sometimes i wish i were an addict again so i could feed this restlessness inside me. then i wouldn't have to deal with reality. i know how to fix my life... i just choose not to. i'm scared i may never have enough faith. if you knew how i really was, would you still love me like this? i'm fear when we're married you will want to read all the old poetry and journals i've written. i hold on to all my hurt and depression because somehow it makes me feel important. i'm worried that happiness is a plateau that can never be topped, and that it grows old after a while. i like teasing the boys while looking like i don't know i am. i never like to give too much information on myself because then people will a) categorize me, b) be able to predict me, c) think i am boring or shallow, or d) act like they know me. i think reading someone's poetry i know is kinda creepy. that's why i don't tell anyone i write poetry. i like stalking my boyfriend sometimes. i am obsessed with him and want to know every little thing about his history. sometimes i worry that MIB is true. i'm scared that one day i will run out of thoughts and cease to exist.