I’m an Eight

Wow, just started to rain. Really wanna know what being an eight is like, from my perspective? You work your hardest and recognition feels like nothing when you get it. I don’t know the difference between experiencing feelings, denial or health problems. If I come off too aggressive then I get instant backlash. 

“Attention XYZ happened to this person today.”

Wow, didn’t really need that at all. I find myself retreating into my safe space because I hate being the center of attention. I see you copiers too. Trying to mimic the things that I do. Why can’t you be freaking original for once in your god damn life. I don’t really know what it is that I do that attracts people.

I’ve asked some friends if I come off too strong and they reply with no’s. I don’t get compliments but once in a while and it feels like some mediocre crap from a cartoon. If something great happens it’s so unexpected and dies down shortly after.

I’m in the middle of working on a project that I’m stuck at and all these people rush to my side spitting the best advice ever and I don’t even use it. I’m so stubborn.

My past still has many bruises in need of medication and I’d always think of doing something about when all I really do is ignore it.

I feel so misunderstood.

Lately, I’ve found myself relying on philosophy more than the Bible. At least that can give me answers. I’m so impatient too.

I fear that if I spend too long on a goal and it backfires that everyone else will fall harder ten fold.

I don’t wanna die a martyr or a ruthless brute either.

My parents have done so much for me and nobody in my family has won a scholarship yet. When will I really grow up and realize that the world in my head is just med hiding behind a curtain blind hidden from the existent.

I fear judgement but then again I judge people ruthlessly.

I need to come clean. Maybe all of this hard work is for a reason. I’m just so angry that I can’t find a map that would tell  me the future outcome of my life. I hope that I don’t go into a deep depression of character out of fear of getting different looks for my outspoken opinions.

It bothers me that so many beautiful people died without even reaching their truest potential while others are still here abusing or repressing the gifts that they were meant to share.

I wish that life didn’t have an expiration date.

Why couldn’t we be made immortal.

If I am better than what others put me out to be then why am I so keen to change?

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