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This, is MY Story...

Right now, I’m looking around my room as if I’m afraid someone’s going to jump out and say: “Ah ha! I’ve caught you!” But what I don’t understand is what I think they’re going to catch me doing. It’s not like I’m robbing a bank. I guess I’m afraid that they’ll see me as less than perfect, and less than happy. And that they’ll tell everyone. I guess I’m afraid that someone will notice that not everything’s right in my head. I guess I’m absolutly terrified someone will realize that although I may not look like I have a lot of problems on the outside, I’m completely and utterly screwed up on the inside. Even if there are no marks on my skin, there are cuts on my heart, and they just won’t stop bleeding. And that brings me around to the questions.
The first one being: Why? This takes all sorts of forms, like “Why me?” “Why did they do it?” Why do I blame everyone else?” “Why can’t I find any reason not to blame them?” and most importantly, “Why can’t I fix any of this?” I don’t know any of the answers. I wish I did.
I don’t think I’m the only one who wonders how to stop things from falling apart. How do you hold your life together at the seams, anyway, when everything is threatening to burst? It’s happened to me enough times by now, you’d think I’d know. But I don’t. And it seems like the answer is right in front of me, but I can’t help but wonder if it really is. If I disect everything that’s happened, particularly since school started, will I be left with the answer to all my questions?
I honestly don’t know. But I’m going to try. And I want the world to know. Even if I fail, maybe all of you can learn from my mistakes.
Wish me luck!

Matilda





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