That is a horrible pen name.
I'm not a Frank.
I'm all thin, and gangly, and erratic.
I came up with that when I was
signing up for this website.
I couldn't put my real name.
I'm not a writer.
In a few years the people I work with
At my real career, won't understand
all this.
I'll keep these months to myself.
Burn this journal. Delete this account.
Put up a bunch of terrible peices.
Get offensive. Trash talk the
Couple of people that followed me.
So in the totally off the wall chance
anybody cared about what I put on here.
They won't look for me.
If anybody asks they won't answer.
Eventually, I'll have to Be as much of a
secret as the ones I keep.

Maybe that's over the top.
This is all about learning about myself.
But from what I know so far I wouldn't
push people away.
Or hide myself.
If somebody finds it.
Asks me, "Holy hell were you crazy?"
"Yeah but I'm better now."
They might not understand it,
But I think that sounds so strong.
If you've totally snapped in half
And you can recover.
Knowing how to put yourself back.
If you did it once,
If you're capable of it
...
I want to say "you can take anything."
End it there.
But that isn't true.
I couldn't take killing a bunch of people.
Or selling out someone I love.
I don't think I could handle prison.
Or staying out of school.
Or not doing something that makes me feel
like my paradise is following me around
Hovering like a cloud.
I have to know my limits.

If you know what went wrong.
And if you know what made it feel so awful.

Wait.

I need to use "I" instead of "You."

You didn't do it.
I did. I did it and if I do one
**** thing differently it's to think
and admit in the first person.
I need to hear the echo in my ears
of my own voice
making the excuses.
I want to start seeing those memories
- Of silencing the alarms
- Skipping classes
- Ignoring textbooks
- Stumbling around drunk.

I want to start seeing them myself.
I write this and I'm starting to.
I'm not living them like I need to.
But there's a lot to come to terms with
Before that.

All these goals and I can't write under
my real name yet.
This isn't finished. I know there's something missing in it.
Like the message isn't complete.
But it's not to anyone.
It's for me.
I feel like after all this rambling I'm
Still not understanding what I wanted to.
I have to end it.
I'm burned out and I'm done for now.

When they buried me in the dark, I was frightened.
I didn’t like the taste of earth.
And I was so thirsty.
Some people are no good with plants,
Even the hardiest shrubs
Wither and wilt in their careless hands.
You aren’t one of them.
When no-one else could see,
You took such good care of me.
Water, warmth and love.
These are my needs, but I had no voice
With which to ask; without you
I would have remained inert
A lost life, in the dirt.
See now, how I blossom?
Just a shoot, but I will astound them all
With my beauty, in time.
Thank you for caring for me,
Thank you for helping me to grow.