I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons Finally content with a past I regret I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness For once I'm at peace with myself I've been burdened with blame Trapped in the past for too long I'm moving on.

Ever since I was little girl, I've been blinking back tears, and hitting walls when I thought nobody was watching. I've been subliminally fighting God, myself, and everyone around me with no purpose--and no end. In my head, I keep trying to make sense of everything that's happened, but it seems that no matter how many times I go over it, or tell myself that it was all for the best, I can't be content with what took place when I was a child. I can't be content with the person I've come to be. There was one point when I thought I'd finally moved on with my life, started a new chapter. I'd momentarily forgotten the past. But it seems there were just too many memories and scars that would never go away, no matter how hard I tried. And so I'd given up trying to mend the soul that had been shattered so many times before. That's when it all came back to me. They say history repeats itself, and they were right. I came face to face with everything I'd been avoiding--blood, guns, knives--anything and everything that had to do with my past. Well, what can I say? Karma's the master, and I'm the bitch.

I've never been the type to wear my heart on my sleeve. I tend to hold the cards close to my chest.

There's not much else I can tell you--I walked into something I wish I hadn't of and reacted badly--now I'm paying for it--story of my life.

So, you're trying to understand me better--news flash--so am I. Honestly I don't know where to start. It's fairly safe to say I didn't grow up like most people, for sure different than you. If your life is anywhere near as sheltered as your mom's was then you probably don't need to hear about it.

I've spent years building this mentality. I'm not just going to drop it because you want me to. It doesn't work that way.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjkikjjkhhujnhunnbjnjmikijkkkmnbfctfgnghhbbbngh

I admit--I'm a secretive person. I bury unwanted emotions, I won't tell you the entire truth, and I certainly won't let you see into my mind or soul. But I have a reason for everything I do. In my opinion, the less you know, the better. I don't feel the need to offer an explination to anyone. I'm not sorry for anything I've done. I'm not in this to please anybody. I realize that my actions have gotten me here; I don't lay blame anywhere but upon myself. I'm not one to forgive others, and so I don't ask for forgiveness in return. I'm not a role model, and I don't claim to be. I've stabbed people, I've shot them, and fought them until our knuckles were bleeding, and we were coughing up blood on the pavement. I do what I have to do, if I want to protect those around me. If it was by my hand that made you upset, angry, or hurt--no apologies. I'm not sorry. But there is something that just might bring even the slightest comfort that you and I both know. I deserve to die. One day I will.

Woke up today about 7:30am. Everyone had abandoned me, and there was a note from Mom on the table. She doesn't tell me where anyone went or what time they'd be home. No, she tells me I can have the Doritos. Smh. Well, I have to go finish convincing my little brother that my shaving cream is wonderful, chocolatey goodness.

"She's all laid up in bed with a broken heart. while I'm drinking jack all alone in my local bar. And we don't know how we got into this mad situation. Only doing things out of frustration." "And we don't know how we got into this mess. This is God's test. Someone help us 'cuz we're doing our best." "Sit talking up all night. Saying things we haven't for a while. A while, yeah. We're smiling but we're close to tears." "But we both know how we're gonna make it work when it hurts. When you pick yourself up, you get kicked to the dirt." --The Script, For The First Time