I just gotta put this out there.

I'm gonna admit all these things, because I can't be afraid anymore.

Yeah, I wanted to make a milkshake without waking up Dad,
so I took the blender into my bedroom. It's still sitting there.

I am a chocoholic, and yes, I do eat all the M&Ms you hide around the house.
I eat just about anything else with chocolate too.
I know this disappoints you, and you think I'm just gonna keep getting fat. I'm sure I will. I'm not very athletic, even though I try.

You remember a few years ago when you asked if I liked a certain person, and I said no? That was a lie. I wish I had simply stated the truth. Maybe admitting it to you would have given me the courage to admit it to him. Look at me now.

I don't think I will ever make the bed of my own accord. Even when (and if) I am married.

I rarely feel pretty. People can tell me they think I'm pretty, and I can blush for a second. But I only share the pretty parts of me. I can be pretty dang ugly. And not just physically. When I have all the time to myself, I am a boring, selfish bum who sits here at this computer entertaining myself and sharing that fun with others so I feel like I receive some inkling of attention. I tell myself I'm going to practice music, or write more of the story I've been wanting to finish, or do a craft, or be productive and not procrastinate homework, and all these other great goals that go unfinished.

My worst secret is probably the fact that I can treat any friend or stranger like they are the best person in the world, with Prospect 100% on their side, yet when it comes to my family, I can quickly come up short on kindness. I see other girls saying "My mom is the best!" and I feel a sting of guilt. It's not that I hate my mom, but I know that I don't give her the gratitude she deserves. It's a work in progress.

I try not to be a hypocrite.
Sometimes I'm really lame at that job.

I can tell anyone with serious and honest assurance that I know God will help them.
I will wonder why they haven't given him a chance after all of my encouragement.
But then again, I know I don't have the faith to always speak the truth about myself.
Especially to those I love most.

I wonder if putting all of this shame down in words
will do anything to help me change.
Being brave is something I love watching others do.
but i can't be as brave as i wish i was.

I should have kept taking dance lessons. It would've solved a lot of things.

I know I was stupid to try and leave home all those months ago. I didn't even last a whole three days.
Now I'm just the one person you have to worry about all the time. If I don't communicate, you assume I'm going off to live in a bus in Alaska and ignore the bridge nearby.

If I wasn't so shy, I'd probably be a really bad girl. It's all these prayers to God that keep me better than my own nature.

I'm sick of just keeping the secrets.
Of not telling everyone the truth.
Of not admitting that I'm less than imperfect.
Of wearing this mask of innocence and benign love.

The darkness is always there. It has always haunted me like the ghost that I don't want to believe in.

I pray for something divine to catch this falling bird.
I pray for strength to kill the darkness.
I pray for protection from the edges of nothing.

I am spoiled. God has spoiled me.
He can make me right again,
but I have taken for granted all that I am given.

I waste all this time wallowing inside myself,
wallowing in blood I don't even spill.
I spend all this time putting on mental make-up.

foundation over the cracks in my heart
blush over the weaknesses
lipstick on the carnal mind
mascara on the strengths i'm to lazy to exercise

This girl:
Can probably cook alright, but is too lazy to
Fails at driving
Fails at making plans
Will work on what she loves until she loses patience with it
Won't work on anything else because she hasn't developed that sense of responsibility
Tells a lot of lies, considering them white lies, but they still make a difference bigger than she intends
Is very stubborn, but pretends to be really flexible
Is not very good at keeping promises

I look at those free-spirited people and wonder how they do it. They can live as who they are and people get it. I don't even know what I am. I think I'm a free spirit, but I've caged myself. Isn't that dumb?

I know most people who read this won't care, and I don't need you to. This is the regurgitation of a million different things that I've been fighting forever, and I'm not sure if it's a victory or a surrender. You don't have to be interested in knowing what the score is.

It's for me to lay out.
All the times I've watched something I shouldn't have seen.
All the times I've twisted the truth because I think it will hurt less.
All the times I've tried to paint over my own face in the mirror.
All the times I've hidden a beast of a temper and then let it loose on someone who didn't deserve the attack.
All the things I dream of being, and all the times I've let myself fall short of the achievement.
All the expletives I censor from my speech and how I actually wish I could telepathically send them to everyone person who brings them to mind.
All the confidence I use to mask the fearful toddler in the corner of my brain.
All the stupid poetry I write and share with strangers whilst hiding it all from the people who need to see it.
All the what ifs that I pretend are just lessons for the future, and how much I truly wish they didn't remain as statements of wonder.
All the times I act like I deserve some attention, and all the times I know I'm really nothing to see at all.
All the times God has shown me the right thing to do and all the times I've slacked on performing the action.

It has to go. Everything. My life is for sale.
It's just this little cloth ready to be marked.
I'm just taking the shoes off and putting my bare feet in the grass.