i'm going to shoot someone.
hello everyone: my old journal, my old free space of writing, my old life. its nice to see youre sitting there with that bleak look on your face, that "i told you you would come back" satisfaction leaking through your smirk. well, i dont know what else to tell you- i knew i'd be back too.
i dont know why i even bother making online journals. i fill them with things that i dont want people to read, and then post it in my profile and let people prod their noses into my inner most thoughts. what kind of fucking purpose does a journal serve that you feel afraid to write your own experiences in? well... it wasnt serving much of one at all for me.
hey, i'm gabz. you might remember me from other places- i'm the really friendly one that manages to keep a level, slightly pesimistic mindset and bring fun back into ridiculous situations. i'm the one that had lyrics scribbled all over my arms and my tattered jeans that made you look over in disgust and ask if i had a piece of paper. i'm the one that tamed myself into becoming such a useless, waste of space this summer. i'm the one who cant help but argue with my mother because i'm not going to be that fucking idiot that stands aside and gets treated like shit all of their lives. i'm your senior class president, when i still feel like a fucking freshman. i'm the one with those four scars on my leg that havent healed since over a year ago. i'm the one dating that "really hot guy" you all wonder how i ended up with. i'm the one who gets shipped off to my dads house when my psychotic mother "is fed up with me". i'm the one who wishes, prays, and hopes to god i could blend in like all of you just for a minute. i'm that egocentric, argumentative person that is up for new ideas and new music but cant TOLERATE intolerant people. i'm one big oxymoron and it's all i've ever been able to be. i'm the one with the notes scrawled in untidy handwriting to myself in efforts to coax my way through dysfunctional situation, in failing attempts to bring myself back from the edge of the windowsill when no one even knows how close i am to jumping.
i cant go on. i'm out of fuel.
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