I realized that even though I’ve overcome my past…I can’t overcome anyone else’s. I mean, I know people can change and everything. But, maybe, that’s the very thing that bothers me the most. Knowing that at any moment, at any given time, people can change their minds. In person, I just seem like this happy-go-lucky girl with not a care in the world, who’s strong-willed. But, in reality, I’m absolutely terrified of fate; because I don’t know it’s intentions.

I love, and care, genuinely. Too genuinely for my own good, honestly. Because of the way I am, the way my morals have molded as I’ve grown, I set myself up for the worst. It’s very rare that things end up in that fairytale that I tell to myself. Everyone has their flaws…but, I feel as if I’m the most flawed. I was just…born into the wrong reality with the wrong mind set. Though things have been going, unusually, amazingly, I still have that hint of doubt, and I keep myself on the edge.

To think that one factor could change everything. Just one party’s move completely altered an individual’s life. But that’s another thing that I worry about. I don’t know what goes on in their conscious thoughts…and, even, their subconscious thoughts. The what if’s, could’ve’s, would’ve’s, and regretful should’ve’s. These are the things that I cannot go a day without thinking about.

Sometimes, I wish I could just shut my brain off so I don’t have to think about it. I overthink, I overanalyze, and I make myself suffer because of it. I can’t even look at certain people without paranoia flooding into the remnants of my insecurities that I’ve been trying, so desperately, to surpress.

I just wish that I could be happy with myself for once. I should be thinking of myself as blessed because I have a home, my family is far more well off than many people, I’m healthy, I’m able to eat everyday, I get an education…so why can’t I see myself as lucky? I still look at certain girls with hints of enviousness because I think that I’m just not good enough, not as good as them. Yeah, it’s terrible to have such low of a self esteem, but I can’t help it. I’m a perfectionist, I’m a dreamer, and my main weakness…is my twisted hatred.

I wish I could read minds. I yearn to know what goes on in that head. What, or who, that precious mind thinks of when certain songs go on; when certain people’s pictures pop up, or when certain people pass them by. Or even when certain people’s names are uttered. Yes, people are known, oh so, well by their closest, most trustworthy friends. But the only person who knows them best is themselves.

Everyone has secrets that only the scars of their heart know the tale to. Sure, some thing’s are best kept unknown, but I’m the type of person who wants to know everything. Whether hiding it is for my benefit, or not, I don’t care. But I’ve been so persecuted with lies, betrayal, deceit that I don’t care anymore what information hurts my heart.

I want the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Whether or not I decide to let it kill me is my own choice. To be honest, I’d rather be dead than to think or know I’m living a lie.