Who am I

I am very self conscious, I look around a lot and I think about myself a lot. Sometimes I try to stop being so self conscious, it's not very easy, I think it has something to do with the life I grew up in.

It's not very easy writing down personal thoughts on the blogspot when there are so many eyes watching. I think I don't care right now, noone knows me.

I care about the way people look at me, the way people think about me. Even when they don't or maybe they aren't, my mind keeps thinking they do, perhaps they do, I don't know, maybe they don't, I'm not sure. Thinking hurts. No it doesn't hurt my head, it hurts my heart, it hurts my soul, I can think of the worse things, I don't like that, I don't want to think like that anymore, sometimes I can't help it, but I'm trying. I trying, and I'm getting better at it, better at not thinking about things. When I walk, I try to feel comfortable, it's good, I'm doing it everyday, there is a huge difference between me now and me before.

I grew up in a life of hatred, it wasn't a good memory, I try to forget it, but somewhere in the stash in the back of my head it's still there, it's a big stash, you can't miss it. I used to feel so bad about myself, so bad about how my life was, now it's not so bad anymore.

There is one particular thing I want to get rid off. I notice that I always see the worse in people, I don't want to see the worse in people, I want to see the best in them. This probably has something to do with the people I grew up with. I'm not going to talk about that too much.

The tone in my writing sounds a little depressing, no, I'm not really depressed, I'm quite happy actually, happy to know the good person inside me, happy that I have so much to give, happy that I'm sad because people don't know me as the real person, no my parents don't know the real me, I don't really like them, but I'm not going to talk about them. I'm very quiet about myself, I don't share myself around enough, from tommorrow I will try again, and keep trying, I know I can do it.

I don't know why I decide to write things like that when I can write about other things. No wait, maybe I do know, my thought bubble has a life of it's own. When a thought bubble lives inside a head too long, he gets bored, he tries to live outside, so he tries to let himself out, he lets himself out into the world.