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Saturday, July 23, 2005


Skin.
Screaming in my skin.

I'm sixteen, and I'd like to think I'm mature. Enough to handle this on my own. At least, for now. Mature enough to grasp the reigns firmly, and see what happens. What am I going to do when I'm 22? Might as well start taking responsibility for my actions now.

If worse came to worse, I was going to run away from it, but as soon as I suggested that to myself, I sounded like a loser. I'm going to tell her, and I was going to tell him (ask for advice, actually), but I saw the look on his face and couldn't. Just couldn't, and I want to cry - but my tear ducts wouldn't let me. It's like, with some people, every time you take a picture of them, it looks nothing like any other picture of them. lol.

I'm 16, and I'd like to think I'm mature.

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