i have nothing to confess, only my
i have nothing to confess, only my story. People look at me like i should be something great, but Im not. Id like to be and I try to be, but its just me. Im at the point now where what i strive to accomplish just isnt enough or if I do complete the task I do it for someone else. Im not genuinly (sp?) happy and I have no idea how to be. I sit here in my well lit room and my white picket fence and I assure you I am absolutely miserable. Im not looking for anyone or anything because nothing will fill that void. I dont want to leave this world, I just want to be at another one wtih different people and different emotions and different settings and different everything. My tears are the only genuine thing about me and sometimes i think its great to cry just because it feels. all my love to anyone who needs it.