Written sometime in 2009:

The anxiety is slowly killing me.

At least that's what it feels like.

Once again....I'm in this lame ass rut.

Bored with my life.

This is where I find myself the most.

Not exactly sure why.

Lack of human contact I think.

Although I don't care for people that much.

Maybe it's because I'm no longer free.

Trapped in this lame ass life.

I want out.

Sorry

Not sure the exact date I wrote this, (originally on a notebook page) but I believe it was in 2009.  I want to throw away the page and post it here.

I'm sorry I can't be constantly cute, sweet, happy.

I'm sorry for not willing to fuck you like your favorite porn stars.

I'm sorry for having a mind of my own.

I'm sorry for not being the exact body shape you want me to be.

I'm sorry I'm not pale enough.

I'm sorry for being indecisive.

I'm sorry for being mellow.

I'm sorry for being honest instead of kissing your ass.

I'm sorry for being cynical at times.

I'm sorry I didn't turn out what you'd thought I'd be.

I'm sorry but I won't change for you.

Or anyone.

I don't even know why I want to keep this.