No matter how public or private an online journal is, I seem to take advantage of it. A journal is a place for thoughts, no matter how odd, sad, or ******** up they may be. I'd hate to be a random person and stumble upon these entries. If I were not me, I wouldn't want to speak to someone who talks so negatively...who thinks so cynically. Maybe I am the problem.
There's no maybe about it. I'm toxic. Even in this journal, I play the victim almost constantly.
I don't mean to but...god, I'm damaged. It seems like an excuse but...I don't know how else to feel.
I'm trying to change but god, sometimes it's so hard...I'm just trying so hard...
Doesn't it seem so predictable? Some teenager ranting about how difficult things are.
Sometimes things really are hard, though...
I guess I just need someone to really talk to.
I'm tired. Goodnight, journal. Thank you for listening.
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Ivy's Journal
Pay no attention...or do...
I wAs PiCkInG uP a SuIt FrOm ThE dRy ClEaNeRs, WhIcH iS sTaNdArD fOr Me. ThUrSdAy, 12:30. AnYwAy, I wAs LeAvInG. i WaS gEtTiNg In My CaR aNd I wEnT tO aDjUsT tHe ReArViEw MiRrOr BuT iN iTs ReFlEcTiOn, JuSt FoR a SeCoNd, I sAw A fIgUrE.
sTaRtEd To TrIgGeR.
mEmOrIeS fLoOdEd BaCk.
StOpPeD mE iN mY tRaCkS.
wHo WaS tHaT?
It WaS mY lOvEr.
A lOvEr.
FrOm A pAsT lIfE.
sTaRtEd To TrIgGeR.
mEmOrIeS fLoOdEd BaCk.
StOpPeD mE iN mY tRaCkS.
wHo WaS tHaT?
It WaS mY lOvEr.
A lOvEr.
FrOm A pAsT lIfE.
FROM A PAST LIIIIIIIIFE