Dear Stranger

some of it may bore you, some might make you laugh or wonder 'what is this girl thinking', some might make you cry, but this is all but the mind and the confessions of a teenage girl.
I dare you to say we don't matter.
Enjoy.

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1. Somewhere in February, 2015; important because you can see the change of thinking in later entries

(dedicated to my mother after hearing her talk on the phone with one of her 'friends' after our fight; it is a diary entry which I wrote, i'd never give it to her)

Dear mother, 

So you say you're a role model, but what can you show me? What is there that I haven't already experienced on my own in this merciless society filled with so-called believers and hypocrites who talk about integrity and justice, but hide from said things. You act like a child, you always say 'what goes around, comes around', but it's not like that at all. You throw temper tantrums like a spoiled brat who screams and shouts of being mistreated everytime something doesn't go your way. It's not like I don't love you or wish to disrespect you by writing this, I just want to express how hard it is to do so, when you spew out these lies you call facts, when you aren't sure yourself. Even now, you talk of rudeness and these hardships you face, but you like drawing them to yourself. You like to cause yourself pain and act like a victim most of the time, but you are a masochist who practically calls it upon themselves. Talking on and on about these monsters we live among, but you are no better, truthfully. Forgive me, for I had felt the most gnawing need to write this, put it on paper, get it away from my mind, for I am bursting at the seams with anger, pain, hurt, madness. 

Because we live in this mad world where everyone is insane, and we get paid for insanity, for lying and scheming behind each other's backs, for stabbing our friends in their backs, for starting wars in the name of this so-called God, who seems content with watching us burn away slowly in this fiery pit called Earth, in this hell filled with dark demons and fiery devils, who sit in the reigning chairs, who order us around and make us sin.

So forgive me, because I had to write these words of bare honesty, no matter how frank, because I don't want to die someday without having said any truth all my life. I have lied and I have betrayed, even in my short years of living and I have cried and hurt myself and others more than I want to admit, and I have been broken beyond repair. And if you could look into my eyes and see inside my fragile soul, you'd probably cry.

Violet (the name is changed for the sole purpose of protecting people I write about)

 

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