Why is it when I think I'm ok, I'm not really ok. I'm honestly trying to prove to people that I have a peice of mind. I write about my life like people want to hear it. And the voice in the back of my head screams "No Body Cares for it." It's not what they want to hear, it's not what they want to see. They only want to read about positivity. In reality most aren't as positive as you think. I've seen people post positive things everyday, but be depressed behind the scenes. They wear a mask to pretend that they're happy, but deep inside they're dieing. I can relate to that, it's hard to tell someone you need help. Especially when they look at you like you're crazy, and tell you you're over exaggerating. That's not helpful, that's just ignorant. Because I would go out my way to help someone out regardless of the situation. I would walk on sharpened blades to make sure they're alright. I would destroy my happiness to make sure the world had a happy life. I know you can't help everyone, the world has always told me that. But I can't hold back on something, I want to try to do. I don't care about being the best at it, I just care about being the truth. I put my heart into this like I have nothing to lose. I don't care if you don't agree or like the things I say. My point is not about happiness. I write about the wrong side of heaven we all tend to avoid. I don't care if this is not your voice. You have a choice, I don't. This is all I have. This is what keeps me alive. This is what kept me out of prison, this is what saved my life. If it wasn't for this, I don't know where my life would be. You don't have to stand with me, just try to understand me. And have respect for my colorful mind as I show bravery as I write. Most won't write about the things I write about, because they're afraid to being judged. I've been judged enough so I don't care anymore. No one can tell me anything that my demons haven't already.