What We Whisper...

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic

diary of what a teen would be going through. Real entries, and poems (by my friend Ashley). --work in progress--

Chapter 1 (v.1) - What We Whisper...

Submitted: February 12, 2010

Reads: 209

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 12, 2010



Sunday 24th, 2010 - January

When times aren't so good, I want to fake a smile and fight the tears. Lately I've become an expert at making my actions, words, and facial expressions be deciving. With every one smile, there's a million tears behind it. With every one laugh, there's a billion night cries behind it. In every blank stare into space, there's the wonders of what's to come. But now, how do I keep from breaking? My friend is "missing", I spend a lot of time alone and thinking of the worst. I just don't know if I can take anymore. I want to break down and cry for years, I want to stand up tall and yell until my last breath gives. If one more bad thing happens, I might just do that.
When I have my dreams, all I want is to never wake up. There, things just feel better, and almost real. To me, they are my 'Night Escapes'. At times, I really hate reality and I just sit and silently cry in my room. It's rare if I don't cry at least twice a month. Some days, I figure I'm Bipolar or depressed...but then I find that hard to believe. Some days, I just want to tell someone what I'm going through, but I don't because i don't know if I want to see a therapist or something. Maybe I need one, perhaps I don'. The thing is, I highly doubt seeing someone will help; they can't make the saddened and confused thoughts disappear, only I can.
I tell myself it's all for a reason. You're this way for a reason. But then I question, why me? Wouldn't it be something...if we were simply a chapter in someone's book, and they're just watching us. Could we really be that simple? Some days, I feel as if I don't belong. Funny that it's only when I'm alone; which is often. Once the sun is gone, I'm in my room -- alone and writing. It's my own time to really think.
The little things mean the most to me. I'm overly observant and people

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