Physical: My beard is still both scary to look at, and incredibly scruffy. I still have a messed up lip, from the time I was bloodied. My head is still *****, and in total disrepair. My skin is still soft, and sorta fair. I still dress in rags, make it seem like I'm homeless. So yes, I still look, like, totally bogus.
Mental: I'm still emotionally immature, and pretend to be fine. Fine is the word I use when running outta time. I still chase girls, only for them to break my heart. I still feel like something on my inside, is falling apart. I still laugh out loud, at nothing at all. I still feel the urge to pop pills, miss the rush of Adderall.
Emotional: I still cry when angry, haven't found a way around it. I still walk under the sun, and run when it's moonlight. I still hate simple things. Still believe I just lost my wings.
Summary- Something scares me. And by something, I mean everything. I just fear being afraid the most.