Writing is the outlet for my pain, the hole in my tank, the opening to my balloon, my stress reliever.  You don't have to like it, but at least read.

 I am, 17 years old. 17 years, One month, and 30 days, to be exact, tomorrow I will be at two.    


You could also say, 205 months, 30 days, or 895 weeks, 2 days.   


Or simply, 6,267 days. 6,267 days seems like a lot doesn't it? In this year alone I've changed more than I did the two years before. After what happened April, 2020, I stagnated. I tried to cope by hiding behind my screen, and building an online persona, so I didn't have to worry about the things happening around me, making excuses when I was called out on this act. I was selfish.   

I still am, selfish. I may have the raw intelligence of someone twice my age. But I still have the *emotional* and *mental* intelligence that is expected of my age, that could not evolve as fast it seems. I will not apologize for being a child, I will not apologize for having feelings. But I will apologize for taking so long to realize, and so long to change, so long to accept, and so long to care.  

Caring has done nothing good for me, though. It has only given me pain, people to love only for them to be ripped away from me. I don't want to be happy. Because my purpose stems in my misery, she came to me from it and has stayed to keep me from it. If she no longer has to do that, than the only thing she has to focus on is her own pain, and I should want that. I do.   

I don't. I do, but I don't at the same time. I love her, I want her to get better, and the only way to do that that *I* know of, is to force her to experience the pain she created. But because even my selflessness is inherently selfish. I want her to be happy, now watch this all lead back to me.  

The reason I want her to be happy, is because then I don't have to deal with her problems, when we pretend they don't exist, life gets so fun. So, so fun. The sun is bright, the clouds don't exist, and I don't have to think.

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Think about him. I have my favorite person, her, and then my love, the one I want to live with for the rest of my life, the one I want to make love to, the one I cherish with all of my selfish heart, whether he wants me or not. I won't have to think about how painful it is, knowing he's happy without me.