You want to get a peek into this head. Come take a look. But don’t blame me if you walk back scarred. Because I am not the pretty face you assume me to be. I’ve seen things, endured things that would shake you to the core.
You don’t know what goes on in my mind. I speak, I write, I’m an open book, it seems so easy to say you know who I am.
But no one knows the truth and it is because I don’t allow them to. It isn’t mainly because of my trust issues though that IS one of the reasons, but it is because I don’t give you the right. I don’t consider you worthy. I only share what you think me capable of sharing.
Yet, here you are, reading through ramblings of a mad girl who writes letters to stalkers who want to peek inside her head. So who is the crazy one here?
Sometimes I think it’s all stupid. Being around people, talking to them, writing to them, putting out these thoughts on paper because what’s the point?
You won’t ever know what’s truth and what’s not and even if you did, what could you do about it?
I’m over your judgements, quite above help.
We’re all mad here.