Really ... there was a time when I was an idealistic
dreamer, one who believed in everything
that is good.
I used to devour intellectual fodder like it was my sustinence. Now, I suck on my cigarette like I'm giving my sadness head.
I used to believe in the basic goodness of the human race. I used to use my wish from the penny in the wishing well for world peace because I figured that if we all love each other, everything else will work itself out.
Now, I go into every conversation assuming that someone is lying.
I was brilliant, I was honest, I was loving, and I didn't have a fucking clue how wonderful I was.
I started to hurt. I started to wonder "what's wrong with me" when nobody wanted to sit next to me at lunch. I started to wonder if I was fat when a girl in the hall at school loudly whispered "Can you BELIEVE she's wearing that?" I started to think I was ugly when I actually followed everyone's advice and went after someone I wanted and got laughed at.
I started to retreat. I replaced myself with a shell that could have resembled the person I once was, but who paled in comparison. I drugged, I drank, I cried ... I did everything I could think of to try to get out.
I'm partially out now. But I still have moments where I'm really tempted to jump back in bed and never get out.
I used to hope for the world. Now, I walk out of my house and see that everyone is as scared as I am.
I still want to change the world, stop people's hurting, but I don't know if I'm strong enough to do it.