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Writings of Becky

Mixed thoughts: Sometimes

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Mixed thoughts: Sometimes

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Sometimes I want to go in a coma, and hear the truth of who cares about me and who is just pretending . . . I want to know what people really think of me.

Sometimes I sit in the darkness, praying that there is no more light so no one can see me. . . or if light should come that I may be invisible.

Sometimes I want to bash my head into a mirror instead of look at it, because I hate the person in the reflection . . . thinking she is having the best time in her perfect world.

Sometimes I want to shoot myself just to know what real pain feels like. . . not death, but just pain.

Sometimes I want to take a car and just drive . . . no directions . . . no destination just me and the road.

Sometimes I want to be the famous, well like person who everyone envies and wished they can be. . . accomplishing all my dreams, making money, and looking great.

Sometimes I wish I had the strength to stand up for me and not just those weaker around me. . . defend who I am, except I am the weakness person I know.

Sometimes I just wish I knew who I was . . . who I am.

Within the depths of my soul
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