I need advice.

I need advice.
from someone.
ANYONE.

I'm not exactly in "the loop", in fact, I lied.
I was never in the loop. I keep asking questions.
I dont know. I really dont.
Stupid, frickin pms.
Yeah, yeah, sure.
That's what you'd say.
You guys would pass it off as just a small thing.

But I'm afraid.
I'm afraid I'll end up as a nameless face.
Like that poet.
No one remembers her name.
No one will remember.
No one does remember.

What I'm asking is:
Who am I?

I need someone to tell me what they think.
I need somoene to not snicker at me every two seconds.
The irony is pathetic, guys.

I need someone to tell me if I'm awkward.
I need someone to tell me what I look like.
I need something sold to hold on to.
Not just a vision.
Because visions are fleeting.
(especially mines. I have to wear glasses.)

Someone...
Someone tell me.
Because when I look at the mirror, I dont see me anymore.
I see:
an invisible person
an rebel
a dork
a freak
a retard
a goody-two shoes.

Am I slowly losing my sanity?
Is this normal?
well, I guess it is.
Maybe I'm just a drama queen.
AM I A DRAMA QUEEN?

*sigh*
I dont remember. Anything.
bipolar? cause i bet I could deal with that?
depression affects everyone.
I can deal with it.
But the excuse that its normal for me "at this age" doesnt make sense.

I used voodoo dolls as a little kid.
I cursed people.
I pretended I was a witch.
I wrote incantation.
When I was 5, I sadistically took apart my dolls and my teddy bear.
My koala.
When I was 8, I scratched at my cut, because blood was intresting.
My arm.
But then again, I was a ballerina/teacher's pet/ class prez/ perfect child.
Still.

I was a sadistic little child.
I remember I liked blood for some reason.
AGH.
I WAS EMO WHEN I WAS LITTLE.
EW.
I know stereotype, stereotype tsk tsk and all that.
BUT.

Juliet just remembers this now.
it's not helping that she's eating my persona.
Juliet is starting to become me.
Is that being bipolar?
*sigh*
I dont know anymore.
I really dont.


and I wont turn into a rag of a blog
(even tho it already is)


AGH.
WHERE IS MY SELF CONFIDENCE.
MY SNIDE.
MY EVIL.
MY SARCASM.
MY HATE.
MY DEFENSE.
MY MENTALITY.

Ehn. I need to stay away from the squishi clan for a while. Theyre making me a normal person. Theyre making me too preppy. I've become that disgusting person who hugs at random and is happy for everyone. Everyone would love to feel like someone cares, but that doesnt exist.

I'm sorry Melon. Jackfruit, Pomegranate, Mango. I have to rehabilitate. I', being driven into the ground by other people's personas. I'm sorry Eliza. I'm going to return to being a bitch for a while. If I am normal, my defenses will fall and people will attack me.

The irony of life is already decapitating me.
So ironic. Satirical.
I am the laughing stock.
But that's not my place.
I need to be surrounded by hatred.
I feed off of it.
I bite off heads.
I CANT TALK TO NORMAL PEOPLE IF I'M ALWAYS AFRAID AND ON THE VERGE OF MENTAL BREAKDOWNS. Srry squishums. I have to leave for a while. T_T

<3

-juliet.

formerly known as

pineapple.