end.

"No. Fuck it." Every time I try to come up with an interesting line, I try to impress. I try too hard. Trying isn't the fucked up part of it. The fucked up part is that I'm not doing any of it for myself. I'm doing it for the rest of the world so they'll pay attention to me. If I tried to impress myself, if I tried hard to work on my life, it'd be so much better. But I'm not. So. No, fuck it. This time, I'm writing a testament for myself.

Under all the stories I tell, under my white boy accent I got from my friends, under the outgoing and lazy traits I've seen to be popular, under all the shit I've filled my mind and body with is someone I didn't know. I was everything I had wanted to be all along, but I had constructed a fake personality to be, and I had become what I pretended to be. This was my one outlet, to write while thinking of my real voice, a pretender pretending to be the person I had forgotten in hopes he'll come back, and I'll be true again. Everything I've done these past five years wasn't me. I don't think I can fake this life anymore, lest I lose my soul for good.

The world isn't a mystery. Read a thousand books, and you'll learn to see everything fits together, and you'll realize just weren't looking from the right angles. The world has a plot we construct for ourselves. We can't forsee all the accidents and mistakes, but you can expect them and account for them if you can learn to read the storyline. My entire life I've been able to read the signs, but I've lived like an actor following a script, unable to avoid penned tragedies. I speak with a goddamn mumble because at some point, I just memorized the lines and stopped paying attention to what the fuck I was saying.

When I say I'm tired, it's not something that can be fixed with rest. If someone stabs you in the chest, you can't fucking sleep on it and get better in the morning. I don't know where I'm going from here. I don't know what I'm going to do. But I can't let my life go on cruise control any longer. I am so tired of believing the lies and excuses I've told myself to get by. After all the books I've read, every single one has a better ending than I've seen to occur in real life. I don't know what I believe in any more. People attribute the greater things they don't understand to God and Science and move on. I attribute God and Science to those greater things, and I'm going to move on.

I know the secrets to being happy. I know the secrets to flawlessly destroying yourself.
I don't know how to live. I hope I find out.

This is my testament. Thank you for reading.