I've already told the story a hundred times

I'll start slow

Because starting with the really new me just might scary you off

So let’s to rip of the band aid

Let’s pull of the huddie you wear every day because you didn't have time to pick out something else

But am I aloud to talk about myself 

REAL TALK
I feel like I’ve told the story

Real talk, I know just how to tell people what they want to hear

But right now, I’m going to tell you the truth and maybe the same story over and over

Of the, I don't want to hear it

Sophomore year I was drowning and my parents didn't even know it, because they're busy

Having a stay at home mom that work at home all the time, is probably the biggest piece of BULL

REAL TALK I wish I had the courage to say NO, and for the love SHUT UP 

But I just write it instead

REAL TALK love scares the living shit out of me and I pull away from time to time because one day I will be left with nothing but ripped opened letters and a messy room.

REAL TALK I hate your mom

REAL TALK I've been going to therapy sense the sixth grade 

I hate being seen as the goodie two shoes, because I’m not,

I'm just better at hiding it

I leave mutual early to I can go and cry in my car instead

Because having a bigger house isn't worth leaving the old ward

I miss Jr, year, because I only first met you, and I didn't love you yet

I've never had a really good girlfriend, but I balm it on myself

I regret a lot senior year, wished I wasn’t addicted to checking off the to do list

I wished I was more like my Dad because he's happier with his life

REAL TALK I forget, like a lot and I don’t know why

REAL TALK having a Grandma this Bi-polar scares the shit out of me too

Because that crap is in the gene pool

And I'm already half way there with seasonal depression

But at least I get better in the summer right 

I feel alone in a room filled with people because I don’t have a click to go to

But I’m going to better in college and hold on to friendships with both hands not just one

Because we have to hold on to life with both hands because you don’t know when it will turn into sand