I’m tired of living in a world where my worth is measured in how many times I’ve blacked out or how many times I’ve made out with boys in bars. I’m done belittling myself for these people. People who only know the surface of my being. If I were to tell them everything about me all the darkness that resides in my soul, all the pain and misery that encompasses my heart, they would just shrug and call me weird or over dramatic. These people don’t know that I have galaxies in me that have yet been explored, that I fear will never be given the chance of discovery. I’m not depressed by any means, but I’m not happy either. I’m stuck in the middle, in purgatory, but it might as well be hell.

Don't worry if you don't remember me. No one ever does. I tend to be the one in the background, observing the situation. I'm an observer, not one who experiences. I think that will be my downfall.

I am sorry for all that I have done. I truly am. I hope you have forgiven me and forgotten me. God knows, I deserve to be forgotten.