lexalovee
I suppose I could keep trying to impress. I guess I'm just tired. I feel like stopping. I don't want to keep impressing, it's an annoying task right now. I'm tired too too tired of everything. I just need to stop thinking about what others will think of me. Who gives a damn about them anyway.
The edges scraped me. My knees bled out, flesh escaping its home, I gave up struggling. It seemed as if the more I moved, the tighter they coiled. Everything seems too harsh, too intensified. I never pictured it would be like this. I want out. Out.