the miserable life of a miserable teenager

nerves



I never went to the playground alone. A puppet on a string.

They decide what I say.

They decide where I go.

Get a grip.

My life is supposed to be mine, right?

Who am I? Who am I really?

Empty, I am empty. Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

Not a person, not a story.

I can’t leave the goddamn house.

Not because I fear they will hurt me.

Because I know they will judge me.


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