Hi scrapbook, I don’t want to sound cheesy, like those 10 year olds who write “dear diary”, but I found this notepad under my bed the other day ( that’s a whole other story), but I thought it would be good to write down my thoughts and feelings, its crazy how I piece of paper is more trusting than a actual human. I hate humans, even though I am one myself. We are horrible, critical, mean and unforgiving. I suppose I better introduce myself. Well , my names sofi, I’m 15 , and my life is totally screwed. My family’s pretty normal I suppose, but I’m defiantly no ordinary teen. You see, I don’t socialize. I wish I did , but I don’t. its too stressful having friends and people you can “trust”. Cause all it ends up in tears. I have cried too many tears in my 15 years of life.
Sometimes I want to kill someone, no one in particular. Just someone. I don’t know why, it would be nice being noticed for once, my name in the headlines, my picture in the newspaper. That might sound sick to you , but it’s the truth. And I cant hide from the truth any longer. I have read many forensic books, and I would be the best at hiding any forensic evidence. I know all about it.
I say all of this, but I wont actually kill someone, I don’t have the guts. I speak through my dreams instead, im always dreaming about hiding dead bodies under my bed and no one finding out. I feel like I could become one of those school shooters. I envy everyone in my old school , what stupid people they are, thinking their cool putting me down, how would they feel if I put a gun to their head and counted down from 3, not so cool I guess.
I try to be like everyone else , I try to wear the same clothes , hairstyles and have the same attitude, but it never works. I have gotten past the stage of caring though, I’m pretty happy being called a loser now, it brings a mysterious smile to my face ever time I get called it.
Today dad and I got into a argument. “whats the point miya, whats the point in always being angry” he asked in the middle of the fight “theirs no point, that’s the point,dad” I replied. He stared at me with a worried look, I gave him a little laugh back and walked away into my room. I like it when they get all worried about me, I feel like laughing at their faces. At the end of the day, its their fault im like this, they are the ones who produced me, they should have been more sensible if they didn’t want a little messed up kid like me.
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