I only really have one thing to say for now and it's this. With maturity should come the ability to control your emotions and stay calm. That's why volatile is a word associated with teenagers and not middle-aged people. I've been wondering since I was ten when the hell you were going to grow up. I can see by today that the answer is probably never. The only thing that softens the blow every time you let me down is the knowledge that I'll never let myself stop hoping, even beyond all reasonable doubt. I mean what's life without hope?A desolate and unbearable thing.
Call me Miss Anonymity. Once upon a time it was too easy for me to blab my sob story to anyone who would listen. I use to tell my friends every bad thing that happened to me looking for pity, for someone to care, and for anyone to notice how bad I was hurting on the inside. Now that I'm older I've become the exact opposite. I always hold back when friends ask me how I'm doing and it kills me when people see me cry. "I don't want or need anybody's pity" has become the credo I live by. The downside: I have no confidantes anymore, but sometimes it's easier to tell things to strangers, hence my new blog. But to ensure that it stays just strangers I'm changing names and not revealing my own.