Every action is made from two things, Fear or Love.

There are billions people who walk this earth living similarly parallel lives to mine every single day and we all live secret quite lives of desperation. I can tell you that there’s more telling in the reason behind a lie than you will find in the truth. So why do we do it? Why can’t we be honest? Because we’re afraid to have our cake and eat it too; because in reality getting what we really want would mean that our everyday normal day would inevitably change. Everyone would see that we are not the perfect person that we portray to be every single fucking day or even the person they thought we were at all. Life is give and take, and to every action there is an equal counter weight. Someone dies, there’s always someone born again and so on and so forth these are things we all know in the back of our mind somewhere it is imprinted next to the golden rule, and I don’t believe that, in being perfect, I believe the people perceived as perfect in another’s eyes are the truly desperate people. They are someone who would give anything not to walk the perfect straight line in their own shoes; I know what it’s like to walk in those shoes. I can watch in my mind’s eye how everything fell a part and unfolded in to my life now, how in my perfect shoes I started to trip and stumble until they wore there self’s off of me, How I started doing anything to feel again, to feel alive feel anything but that perfect desperate numbness. I never knew who I wasn’t until I felt the cement cutting up my bare feet.
My whole life, each chapter of it so far has been about someone else. I was born a people pleaser; and I can say anything with a pen but I lack the ability to let my voice be heard. I want to make everybody happy like they have never been before, as long as they will let me because that is what it is with me, the lack of self value. The way I prefer that people leave me, because I would never have the strength to move on with my life over wise, somehow I can justify to myself that, if someone else walks out of my life its okay because I will live, but if I leave I wouldn’t know how the story ended.
I am 19 years old and I don’t know the person I was even two years ago. I have changed a lot over the years, most people have just seen it through my physical appearances, but my insides have done 180s as well. I used to be perfect, the apple of someone’s eye, but eventually I got rotten, but that shit happens with fruit. When I think about that girl I used to be, I don’t feel like I was ever really honestly “me.” Everything I did was because someone else wanted me to do it, because it would make someone more important to me then myself happy, because there happiness was in the end more important to me then my own that I could justify all of the things I gave up to do it. There used to be a time when nothing could make me feel like I was happy like making someone else happy, and I can still feel the way that swells today, but it’s a temporary fix to a lifelong problem and in the end it only makes me miserable and more alone when no one comes around. I’ve probably never been more honest with who I really am and what I really want in my whole life then I am at this moment. I’ve lost a lot of things along the way admitting what I really want, but in the end I think once I can be honest with myself I can be solitarily happy on my own, I don’t live a life of desperation. I don’t settle for anything if it’s not really what I want. My life is the way it is now because of that, this is my normal every day, and I am still a person walking a parallel life to yours, and one day I will lose myself again I’m sure but I’m holding on tight to right now.