Dear Diary,
I don't know,
If I love myself
Anymore.
I feel that I've done so much bad, that I'll never be able to do any good.
I feel that I've hurt so many people with my bare hands, that my whole body must be even more despicable.
They don't think I can see them.
They don't think I can hear them.
But I do.
And they hurt.
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
Whoever said that must've lived in a perfect world.
Too bad I don't.
Yours truly, with love,
Holly
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
slowly fading memories | watty's2016
Ficção Adolescentedear diary, I don't really know where to start... My life was perfect. ...But it all went downhill from there. ••• Everyone thought she was flawless - the Golden Girl. But on the inside she was a self-conscious, tired teenager. Her diary entries re...
