Skinny Monologue

You got me twisted and I don't want to get fixed because baby your laugh makes me laugh your smile makes me smile your touch leaves me wanting more and thous eyes I just want to get list in and never be found your gaze gets my head all twisted

Too many things go through my mind as I stepped down to the street. Those things really get through me, those ducks, those people, they all just phonies, and all I knew is I am alone in this dumb world. Nobody understood me at all, Ackley, Stradlater, and even the old Spencer. Suddenly I wasn't freezing anymore, I was fire among the world.

The rhythmic, up-beat and catchy melodies could fool you into thinking this is a happy song. But, just like with life itself, there are people who put a smile on their faces and seem to be fine, but once you start digging a bit deeper, the darkness in their soul comes out, and what they where hiding underneath is not as colourful as they made you think.

Looking back, it didn’t seem like anything significant. So we kept a journal? Big deal. For as long as I’ve known her, really known her, we’ve been sharing our poetry, our thoughts, and our feelings. It made sense to combine them. We tell each other everything. We document every important moment of our lives. It’s not a big deal to us. But to other people, our journals tell a story. A story of 2 girls, searching for themselves; trying to figure out who they are.

I didn’t even really know why I went outside I had nowhere to be no one to see; I am so tired and feel so dirty, I haven’t showered in a week, my clothes are all wrinkled from being worn for so long and my face is the only thing hiding my true feelings towards my life, I don’t talk to

Just look at me, I’m a mess, look what they’ve done to me. I’m minutes away or even seconds from having my breath, my last look at this beautiful view. It was suppose to be a good day like any other day just me and my family but they came here today, they known as the distinctive ones. The old man used to called them the wacky fellows because they are different, because they are nasty, terrifying inhabitants.

It’s one of those days again isn’t it? I thought so. Why am I such a freak? If I were more normal maybe I would have some friends, maybe I’d even have a girlfriend. It’s one of those days where I just don’t want to get out of bed. I want to sleep forever and never have to face the fact that I exist. But I do, I do exist and it sucks.

No matter how many tears you’ve cried, how many memories you have remembered, no matter what has happened in your life, despite of looks, I want you to know something. . To feel like you don’t belong anywhere, and you never have enough friends. I know what it’s like to be hurt. Heartbroken. Bullied endlessly. I know what it’s like to feel like you can do nothing right, or to feel like this is all too much

They all say I'm crazy. I'm not crazy I just see things differently, that's all. Not anything particularly different, I just like to tell myself that I'm not like anyone else, which of course is true. Jean isn't like anyone else either. Jean is different, like me of course. I hate Jean, but Jean and I are great friends. My mother hates it when I tell her about my friend Jean. I don't know why. My mother must be crazy. To stop my crazy mother from yelling at me when I talk about Jean, I'm going to tell my journal instead. On the tv I saw a young girl write in her journal and all her problems went away. Jean didn't seems to like this idea, but Jean doesn't control me. I will just hide it from him.

Many people think I'm weird. Full of retarded shit. But I ain't as weird as the guy next door. I'm a laugh, the line people cross and the wave people ride. I blabber on and am a wreck-lace case but without the spark there is no flame. I am the person of people's nightmares or their dreams. I am the same as good and bad. I may not be as good looking as those you want to be with but what I am cheeky and full of heart. If you don't like me well the life you own has run into my nightmare. Because those who know me know I am a ball of

Pacing back and forth- every day! I was going stir crazy! Running my hand through my once ruby-red hair, I cringed… Grime- and lots of it! I tugged my hand through my hair trying to loosen the knots. I kicked the door in frustration, “Let me out, let me out!” I pleaded, sliding down the door. Tears pooled in my eyes, begging to be released.

I am a warm hearted person, a superb student—and a victim of a mental illness. I bet you didn't see the last one coming, did you? Didn't think so. Of course on the outside I look like the basic mill-of-the-run teenage girl: long hair, even longer eyelashes, a flamboyant romper, and, of course, a pair of Tory Burch sandals. I even act like an average teenage girl: obsessed with coffee, shopping, grades, and my social life. However, I am much more complex than that.

I told a couple people about my suicidal thoughts and the weird thing is that they get the suicide part, but they don’t get the pizza part of what I do. Yes, my band was fucked up to the point where we broke up, which ruined my whole life plan of playing music, plus I broke up with my girlfriend, who was the only reason I’m in this fuckin’ country in the first place… And now, I’m here in this Southwark apartment building having my coffee on this balcony overlooking the Thames River.

“Thousands of little kids, and nobody's around...except me. And I'm standing on the edge of some crazy

“I don’t know V, I’m pretty good where I am.” I shouted, looking down at my hands, avoiding eye contact with any other human being. The social scene wasn’t really my thing. I was the girl to always get talked over, to always avoid social situations, to always be the outcast. Don’t get me wrong, I was fine with this, but sometimes my friends have a hard time understanding me. Sometimes I don’t understand myself. Sitting alone in the dining room of this house, I hear that same thump of the beat on the walls, while the party scene starts to disperse. I watch their faces smile as they jump to the melody of the song. It was some stupid pop song everyone knows. Those oh, so