July 15, 2015, 1:51 AM

I’m empty, but deep down I feel a very distinct emotion of hate, and sorrow. My mind is very confusing, to say the least. There are trap doors that hide behind old memories collecting dust, and I don’t have a flash light to rummage through broken dreams without being cut. Too bad my scars are not able to completely fade away, I can not hide everything from everyone and I seem to do a shit job at it anyway. But what I find is that the people who notice are the people who really care. I mean, if you “care”, that’s fine, but don’t hang with me. Don’t pretend to root for me, when you can’t even notice the fresh layer of scabbed cuts on my thighs and left wrist. I am fragile, but can take a mental beating caused by demons that are imaginary to you but the only real part of who I am. Demons, they are mostly thought of as things from hell. Thought of as things that will posses you. Depression is kind of like that, they do posses you. But you have control over wether you do something about it or not. I am possessed by a demon, but it’s not anything more than a slight bug planted in my ear, twisting words around into daggers that pierce through my skin. My blood is rusted red, old, but pours out freshly. My thoughts are false and I can’t rely on myself to make good decisions. But I wouldn’t know wether they are well or not, seeing as all of them are not to be trusted. What are you doing believing the things I write down? Haven’t you ever been told not to talk to strangers? My name is Leah, what’s yours? See, we are no longer strangers. But still, don’t trust a word my mouth leaks, no one ever knows a boat has a leak until they are drowning in the water. I will drown you with deep and dark thoughts that seem light and poetic. Believe me when I sat that there is no way to describe what my mind is like. These words that you are reading don’t come close to the damage and pain that I feel inside. Half of the time I don’t even pay attention to the thoughts. I’m too busy staring off into space.