It happens, I'm afraid, at the age old question of mankind. Where to start? At the beginning, where fights and friendship troubles were apparently tearing me up inside without me realising it. Where it was so pitiful to not know regection and cold hard bitchfaces if it slapped me in the face. Or at the present, where I do know, and now it breaks my heart anytime something stirs the faithfully repressed memories. I called my blog Anchovies, Bee's and Deep Emotional Trauma because those are the things in life which really suck, to be blunt. Things, no matter how much ingnoring you do, still exist.
I think I will do a starwars, and begin at the end.
I, Charity (my name and all other names are fictional), am fourteen years old. I am in ninth grade and single. I've had a destructive history of friendships and breakdowns, and in the end, I bottle things up. It's not like I'm a ticking timebomb or anything, I just take things on the chin and just say it's part of life. But I tend to take things on from other people, I try, so, so hard to be the shoulder to cry on, because no matter how much you deny it, that's what you want in a friend.
Not somebody to tell you how to get over it or say that you should be strong but someone to pat your back and say 'Poor baby' At least that's what i needed in a friend, something I never got.
I tend to be peoples doormat. Somebody to rip on when your angry, something I regretably tend to do to my brother, Sam, a lot more than I should.
Do things ever really work out the way people want? No. Should we care? probably. I just hope for the best in life, and maybe, just maybe things can work out.
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