When I was young I used to make little books out of pieces of paper and write stories about talking animals and vampires.
Now I am older and writing actual books. It seems to be the only thing that's stuck with me.

I'm sitting in a room full of people right now, and not hiding my paper because I know no one is paying attention.

I used to love myself, I don't know what happened. I used to be full of love and passion and energy, and now I am ashamed of it.

When I was young I used to play with dolls and make up stories of romance and adventure.
Now I'm older and still haven't been loved. I tend to think my younger self wouldn't be proud of that.

I used to cry a lot when people were mean or I lost my way.
Now I haven't cried in months. I think I may haven't gotten used to pain.

I used to sing into my hairbrush and act out monologues.
Now I am afraid to speak my dreams.

I used to love everyone,
now I see how little they care. I don't know if it's because I've lost touch with reality or fully indulged in it.

I used to be a very different person. I am just trying to make her proud, I should've never let them change me.