made of me

I'm not outgoing. I'm not brave. I'm not even imaginative. But this isn't about me. This is about street gangs and def poets. This is about cloudy nights and cold skin. This is about all the times you feel fear, and all those songs on your iPod that you don't know why you have. This is about everything. anything. This is a chance when I can say what I want to say, exactly how I want to say it.

God created the world in seven days, and it takes as little as seven seconds, for mine to shatter. My world rides a roller coaster. It straps itself in and throws it's hands in the air. And while everyone else enjoys the ride, I'm sitting there thinking "Why the hell did I get on?"

It doesn't get better than this.

There isn't much to say about me. I am hard as rock, invincible, and breakable. While my exterior may come across as warm and alive, inside I am cold, and barely breathing. But I'm not dead, yet. I am not weak. I have been broken, beaten, and betrayed, but here I am.

Still standing.

The people around me? They do everything they can to get skinnier, prettier, smarter. But when I look around I see fat, ugly, stupid people. I'm not pessimistic. I just prefer to see beauty in the world, rather than the people in it. I enjoy things that are real. And not many people fit that description.

I spend most of my time exploring my own mind. So I guess this blog is a chance for you to come along.

Take it or leave it.