Nobody.

Nobody knows who I am. To be more specific, I know nobody who knows who I am. My dearest friends- and you know who you are - know much more about the real me than many others. I hardly know who I am myself, and I'm not sure if I really want to.

There's the me on the outside- a somewhat cheerful, eyebrow raising and only slightly questionable person. A simple member of society. Perhaps slightly depressed as well- ah, must be just going through a phase.

I try too hard to stay in that character. I feel as if my other self is inappropriate, dark, disgusting. I try oh so very hard to tuck the other persona away- from myself even.

It's stressful and tiring. I make fun of depression only to try to distract myself from depression. I am what I try the most not to be.

The other side of me

the cancerous

the ugly

The more I think about it, the more I try not to think about it. Why am I depressed?

Fuck, I know.

God damn it fuck shit holy hell

ah, there we go.

I contemplate suicide occasionally- not entirely out of the ordinary, but the part that disturbs people is what's holding me back.

Save it for a better time

Afraid of the pain

I can't be that selfish

But this isn't about suicide

Yes it is.

what's the point of living? this can't be the first time that question has arisen, but probably the first time you realize that you don't have a good answer.

Fuck.

When I meet someone nice, and I like them

They get to know the outside me- the not me.

I start trusting the person.

What a fool I am

Now they only know about the very surface of me.

The me that's really me

The me they didn't know before

I start to cower away- I truly love them so I try to shield them.

I try to protect them from me.

Fuck I'm selfless

This is the internet right?

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck