I don’t know who I am.
I don’t know who I am anymore. Back in middle school, I was a shy and anxious little p**** with anger issues. I was always quiet and everything. Kinda looked and maybe acted like a school shooter lol. But anyway, I moved during the summer of my 9th grade year I think. When I went to a new school I started acting differently. Made friends easier. Had more confidence. Showed less emotion. I showed less emotion, in theory, because I was emotionally hurt from what a “friend” did. And them lying to me. Ever since that happened though, like I said I got more confidant and what not. I started lying, manipulating, all sorts of bad s***. Everything I did or said was in my favor in the end. I stopped caring for anyone else. I stopped feeling bad about things I did. Then I moved again. I got worse. Felt even less. Been more of a bad person. Normally I’m really well organized but this is going to be spaced out everywhere and stuff. I’m very tired. I feel like I’m not one person. Sometimes, I’ll feel bad about what I did. I won’t actually feel, feel. But I know what I did was wrong and what not. Other times, I couldn’t give a s***. I would do it again if I could even. How did I go from being the quiet nice kid, to the outgoing whatever I am now? I know lies and betrayal are one huge influence for it. But I can’t remember everything. Maybe this is me realizing the true meaningless of everything and everyone. I don’t think people are real, I don’t even know if I am. There’s not proof I can see that makes us real. What would make us real to begin with? A pulse? A brain? I can’t feel my pulse half the time and I don’t know who I am. All interactions seem fake. You all seem fake. Friendships aren’t real, they’re just an excuse for people to manipulate you, when you manipulate them. They use you. But I’m supposed to use them. Not the other way around. Greasy little cockroaches need to learn their place. I’m so g****** tired. I can’t love. I don’t deserve it. I either can’t love or I just avoid it. But I don’t know which one. I don’t even know fiction from reality.