Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Autobiography of a teenager

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
My music leaves me thoughtful.
It holds my doubts, my fears, my self-hate.
When I listen, those past emotions explode back into my mind.

I see my life through the music notes.
I get scared.
I get those emotions back.
But the one that always comes back the way it came, is the self-hate.
Like a bug, it'll eat and eat and eat.
Never getting its fill.

I'm scared.
I'm heartless.
I'm pretending I'm where I wanna be at.
It's a lie, like everything I live for.
My wants are never really what I want.
But I don't want to hurt the ones I love.

I pretend to be this all knowing, individual.
But I'm weak and fearful.
I don't need love.
I need the attention.
That's what I crave.

I always cave.
it hits me like a wave.
it has many disguises.
I'm going to die alone, hating the world.

I'm going to die with my back to you.
I know I will.
I do this with everything.

I just say what you want to hear.
Why the hell should I tell you whats wrong.
When I don't know whats wrong?

I hate being this.
I hate being human.
I hate, hate, hate.

But hating humans is a total hypocritical statement.
All I want is just to hide in my basement.
I don't want to succeed in life.
Why should I?
There isn't anything to really live for.

The moment we are born.
We are dying.
I'm not a pessimistic, I'm a realist.
But I pretend to be an idealist.

I pretend I'm optimistic.
But my glass is completely empty.
empty.

I never write everything down.
Because I forget.
I am afraid I am losing my mind.
But my parents don't listen.
Because I'm a fake.
I'm a complete faker.

I lie, I steal, I cheat.
Because I can, I have no morals.
I don't need morals.
I don't need this right now.

I can't handle human touch.
I really can't handle myself.

I'm screwed.



Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!




Site Feedback