The older i get i loose people i need and love i grow farther apart from my mom. she says the older i get the brattier i get and i cant ever stop. i yell and scream and slam my door punch holes in the door and leave marks on my knuckles i call anyone that can help me but no one has time to listen to me speak i have so much to say and so little time i cant even make a damn rhyme i lead a sad life sitting in a chair going on chat rooms looking for someone to care about what i have to say i don't need to hear how sorry you feel about my life i know its sad but you don't see my dead at least not yet Ive thought about it once or twice and through my brain may spin with craziness i still am here and I'm always here sitting in this chair my grades are low and my knees are weak and i can barely speak i have a boyfriend his name is Eastan i don't know if he knows how much i care for him but i know the older i get the more I'm dying inside things Ive done stories Ive heard i hear people i don't know calling my name around i try to protect myself and 'm always afraid paranoid i am i freak out about every single thing I'm not OK and you would notice if you would listen to my story but the more i tell the more i fade away from you that is what happens the older i get.
