Well This is a Jumbled Mess. Apologies in Advance.

     What I know. I know some things about myself. Not much. Or at least not as much as I would like. I think a lot. I overthink most things. I write love letters to people I haven't talked to or have barely talked to, but never write them to people I actually love. I don't know why. Sharing feelings is the most terrifying thing to me. Next to being sad. Both are absolutely petrifying ideas in my mind. I write what my lips can't speak. I try to be funny. People say I'm funny. That makes me feel good. I believe in traveling, friendship, books, and hugs. I want to learn. But I don't want to go to school. I'm told that I'm not smart. Or rather I'm made to feel as though I am not intelligent. This really hurts. I have a best friend who just gets me. But I can't tell her any of my broken moments.
     I get called weird often and get crazy looks, but I like that because that means I'm different. I know how to make a lot of fun for myself. I also know how to make sadness for myself. That's the worst. I don't like talking about myself, yet look at what I'm doing. This is less abrasive I feel though. There I go making excuses for why I only let strangers read me.
     I'm afraid. I don't want this future I'm "supposed" to follow. I have traveling, love, and writing in my heart. There's a very limited amount of those ingredients in my life at the moment. I want to change my life. I don't know how to. I need to change my life. It's wasting away. But I don't exactly stop it. I feel powerless. Not much money, haven't even graduated high school yet, but I still want to get up and take on the world. What's stopping me? Everything. Me included. I'm crazy probably. Actually I'm really scared people will actually think I'm crazy. I care too much, but not enough at the same time. I feel lost. So lost. I don't know anything anymore. I guess I don't know. I don't know me.

Purple Skin

A fall from a narrow staircase lands your elbow on hard, hard ground

Tomorrow there will be a reminder of your stumble home

BAM!

Your knee hits smack dab on the corner of the sand-dusted base 

Tomorrow as you rub last night out of your burning eyes 

An unfamiliar tenderness is spread across your thigh 

It almost makes you laugh as your self proclaimed "klutz" status strikes again

But then you grow sad 

Your milk white skin is marked by a flaw, an accident, a misunderstanding 

Time, of course, heals the wound

You don't press it or mess with it 

Because you know pain will be shot 

So when someone pretends to hit it, you wince 

You're scared that someone saw it, saw the purple skin

There's no hiding it now 

Best you just makes up a silly story that you think everyone will believe because hey you always mention you're a klutz 

But you're not 

Your body has been printed with a purple skinned reminder of something you probably want to forget 

But it eventually goes away

Without even thinking about it, in a week or so its no more

If only the bruises on your mind

Were gone 

Like the bruises on your body