dont read this. if u do, u must read till the end.

hi. it’s been a while. not really in the mood to directly catch anyone up. maybe later. just felt like writing.

i looked at the back of my copy of sylvia plaths diary and it says “plaths precocious literary talent blazes off the page… no one has put sylvia plath down on ppaper better than she did herself.”

it made me think. about my ability to view myself and communicate myself to the world. can i, in any capacity, objectively put myself on paper? i think about some of my inabilities. why can’t i be undiluted and wholly truthful? what do i fear? well, i know what i fear but i don’t have the guts to say it outloud.

sylvia had the courage to, our knowledge, say the ugly things. she immortalized her ugly truth and maybe thats part of the reason she killed herself, but shes praised for it. sometimes i think there will never be a person on this earth that i could be totally truthful with. i mean, can anybody? theres so much we all hide (at least id like to think so) even from ourselves, thinks we dont let hit paper or be spoken aloud because loud lies cover silent truths much better than they should. i mean, you reading this right now, what are you hiding? what cant you say to yourself? theres always something. or maybe im crazy.

whats the ugliest thing you did to a person? whats the ugliest thing you did to yourself? even if people have said worse aloud, whats one thing you won’t let your outside self know? im thinking of a few things. these things i don’t want immortalized or associated with the person i see in the mirror, but these things are undoubtedly mine.

im so scared of ever letting anyone ever truly know me, that i dont often give myself the opportunity to know myself or accept the bad parts of me. if you let someone truly know you, they can truly hurt you. i mean, tail behind your legs kinda hurt. like salt in the wound. i guess on the same coin, someone could truly love you. but hurt is a lot scarier than love and if you don’t think so i think youre lying to yourself or maybe im just naive

i wonder if i would ever find some kind of claim on a life like sylvia has in so many, i wonder if my words would ever sit in a teenage girls bedroom and memorized in her head because it just made sense. that feels dramatic to say. how could i ever be a writer, in the way i want to be, if im not honest? will someone ever be moved by me? will someone ever be fascinated by my words? will i ever write something that some stranger would always come back to. i want to, i dont know how.

i think i could keep a diary, but i have too much to say. and it never seems like its the right thing. or about the right thing. can you imagine someone wanting to read your thoughts, personal thoughts, over a span of a decade? not just out of curiousity or noseyness but because they want your words so badly? because your work, your immortality is an extension of them?

sometimes i contemplate my desire to be known in such a way. i would want people to love the things i said and who my words portray me to be, not me myself. i think my words are who i truly am, but i dont want that to ever be clouded by my existing identity.

i have so much desire to create something and to give it to the world so people can love it as much as i can, but i don’t know what that would be. i dont know what i have the capacity to give. and my fear of failure is so intense it’s scary.

i think i have imposter syndrome. scratch that, i know i have it. when i feel like im doing something good, i think its wrong i think im wrong and im lying to myself but i cant tell. when im doing something bad, i think it might not be that bad and im lying to myself and im actually good. like i said, i have no way to truly ever know myself.

i have so many facets and so many parts of me and im beginning to think i sound like i have multiple personalities or BPD or bipolar disorder or fucking something but like doees that make sense. i can sense a progression and some consistencies in who i am at this point in time, but i feel so vastly different than the person i was 2 years ago or even a year ago. thats growing up i guess, but like i hate my old self so intensely it feels like im a brand new person. ‘

ew ok i hate all that that i just wrote i feel like it made me look crazy and now im contradicting myself because all i fucking do is contradict myself and i logged on here to satisfy some need to get some words out but now its just left me wanting to say more and completely unsatisfyed and frsutrated and im also kind of under the influence not really but kind of and i want to just exist without anyone looking at me please dont read this because its gonna make me wonder for hours if i look like a crazy person in your perception of me. do not read this unless u r willing to read everything else ive written and write a 5 page MLA format essay on exactly how u perceive me and honestly someone do that plz that would make me happy especially if youre like a psychiatrist or something plz diagnose me thatd be so fucking funny