That Familiar StrangerHer skin's too pale, her hair's too dark, and she has a lot more freckles.She's curvy in all the right places, and looks almost exotic with her fair skin.She's different.She's beautiful and smart and most of all she's happy.She's that familiar stranger that looks back at me.
Argument of the sides.You promised. They don't care.They're just busy. They never cared about you.You said you wouldn't.Go ahead, teach them a lesson.Don't do this, you'll regret it later.Just keep going, you're almost there.Don't you care about them anymore?Just go ahead, stop being a wuss.You're hurting them!You wuss.You did the right thing. ....Yeah....whatever.
Thank you.Thank you.Thank you for your trust.Thank you for your care. Thank you for your belief.Thank you for your time.Thank you for your love.Thank you for your patience.Thank you for your touch.Thank you for your advice.Thank you for your rationality.Thank you.
My journey.Let me tell you a story about a girl. She has brown hair and brown eyes. School is stressing her out. Her home is full of fights. Money is tight. A social life is almost non-existent. She misses out on the simple things in life. She grew up to fast.Cracks began to show, and her closest friends started to realised. They started to look out for her. She hid from them, placing a mask over her true feelings.It worked for a while.Then the mask started to slip. Nights are full of tears. Days are full of fears.People are now starting to realise again and she's scared.Scared of what they'll think.Scared of what they'll do.Scared of what will happen to her.But part of her is ready.Ready to find herself again.Ready to stop pretending.Ready to be free.My names Samantha, welcome to my page.Join me on my journey?
One thing's for sure.I'm scared of the future. I've lost myself in so many ways during my teen years. I'm only fifteen.What is to come? Will I cope? Will this depression make me sink deeper? Do I have depression? Or is it just me thinking I do?Am I going crazy? Do crazy people know they're crazy?Do I like what I think I like? Am I subconsciously making my life harder for sympathy?I'm scared. That's all I know for sure.