I hate that I am really just another miserable, angsty teenager. I really hate that. I hate that so many people feel this fucked up, I hate that I am not the only one that feels this way. I just hate that even my sadness is unoriginal.
On a better day this may be a comfort- that other people feel the same. But not really and not at all right now. I want to own my sadness, I don’t want to share it. And I suppose that that makes no sense- why would anyone be so possessive of pain? Â I don’t know, all I know is […]