I’m a imperfect person, I’ll be the first to admit that. But sometimes I’ll make one of those mistakes that remind me of the skinny 9 year old girl with the 5 ton bookbag taking a slow 20 minute walk home from school I use to be. Oh I remember those days well, it seemed like every other minute I was making a mistake, skipping in between my fairytales and my reality, the real and the surreal. But I was just a kid then and that’s excusable and all those mistakes didn’t weigh my chest down with regret. I’m full on adult now, I shouldn’t make mistakes right? God knows the ones I make now always end up as some kind of disaster. Emotionally. Wreck.
I use to be a very angry person, tears running down my face, fist shaking angry. I couldn’t understand…anything. I suppose all teenagers go through it. I would shoot off at the mouth, I wasn’t scared of nobody because I had this super reserve anger that was sure to kick some ass, or carry me through an ass kicking. But then that anger caused me to make some big mistake one that changed me, made me bury that monster deep. Become zen. I never thought I’d see that side of myself again, but I’m making mistakes again, so many, a sure sign that I better shape up, i dont wanna blast anyone out my life, or send them running as fucked as me.
I use to be a very angry person, tears running down my face, fist shaking angry. I couldn’t understand…anything. I suppose all teenagers go through it. I would shoot off at the mouth, I wasn’t scared of nobody because I had this super reserve anger that was sure to kick some ass, or carry me through an ass kicking. But then that anger caused me to make some big mistake one that changed me, made me bury that monster deep. Become zen. I never thought I’d see that side of myself again, but I’m making mistakes again, so many, a sure sign that I better shape up, i dont wanna blast anyone out my life, or send them running as fucked as me.
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