This Picture

This picture I'm painting of myself is so false, burn it, let the flames devour it, my face isn't what you see. The book is taking its toll, the memories disturbing my sleep, disturbing my thoughts, just disturbing. As I power on I can't help but feel sad, how can someone who is only this age write a biography, is he that self obssessed? God the worlds trying to tell me something. Meeting my ex yesterday was the weirdest thing ever, I wanted to say so much but said so little, I can't believe the way I treated her. I'm nervous about the ever evoloving world around, as it spins on & on I don't know where to turn to. Old nemesis has returned into my life, confusing me, she made/makes me feel so uncertain about myself, so nervous about meeting about new people, unsure as whether their eagerness is genuine or not. I shall always wear the shity scar she gave me. Turbalent is my life of late & i can just tell its about to get a hell of a lot worse. So I'll hold onto my hats. Wounds will bleed & people will scream.
Love Crag.x