Not Many People

know that I used to be very.... depressed. Some would even say emo, if they knew anything. I've battled lots of things, though none of them lasted for more than a few months at a time, curse my short attention span. Or in this case, I'm glad I have it. First thing was anorexia. I was obsessed with it, but then I went all over the internet, and after a few months, I got over it. End of story. Then it was just me thinking I was freaking bipolar or something. Because I'm completely normal at times, and then I could literally feel the unhappiness being poured into my head, my heart. Then I was sort of interested in cutting, but I never did, because I have a fear of knives that I don't even know where to begin to explain. So I gave myself eraser burns. One on my hand [first one I ever did], and two on my wrist. Then, I guess, I decded I was full of shiz. I learned to always remember that "He who insults himself deserves to be insulted." So I stopped sulking around in unhappiness all the time, and I learned to love myself. I mean, let's face it, I'm pretty awesome. I'm beautiful because God made me that way. And I know it. The only thing that makes me insecure is my house, but I won't tell you about that, because it's simpy not important.

Sorry about the longness. My purpose of saying all of this is that nobody knows any of it. And they never will. Because if they did, who knows how I might appear to them.
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May 17, 2012