Probably the only actually serious chapter))

If anyone actually reads this just know it's unorganized and it's not my usual style. It's me ranting, venting, letting everything I've been to afraid to tell the people I've trusted most throughout my life. Even myself, there will be so many grammar and spelling mistakes buts that's because I'm typing fast, letting things loose before I forget only to remeber once the stress builds up and explodes with the sound of a bullet passing through a skull and blood splattering the wall. I'm not doing this for anyone other than me. My mental state, my mind. I don't need to explain myself to strangers who have this false image of me being this peice of shit chaotic bastard. Sure that's a part of me but you can't carry on in life having that part. That part that makes you happy. That makes others happy. I feel I'll lose friends this way. They see my sloppy mental state and run for cover, to afraid of this ever growing shadow they called a friend at one pathetic moment in their lives. I'm doing this to focus on me. I'm not here to impress strangers or make other people who are selfish have a bigger ego. This is my chance to be selfish, focus on me and only me. Because no one will care about some kids edgy diary on wattpad in a few years time. I'll melt away in time with the rest of the people who accomplished everything yet nothing at the same time. So I might as well start with the title.

Dear Younger Me.
These won't be letters. I wanted to apologize. We were so innocent and young just a few years ago and now here we stand, constantly fighting to keep our head above the tidal wave of lies that now drown out our pitiful screams and cries for help. The lies we were told our whole life so that maybe, just maybe, we would be to afraid to be us. Only ever be brave enough to live up to the stereotype and never ourselves. We listened to the lies formed by a broken heart of a man in our bloodline who refused to admit that shooting heroine into a younger than 12 year olds body was bad, and forced their drug habits onto their younger family members if they ever found them out, manipulating them into thinking that if they told they would be caught to because it was forced into their system. A 10 year old girl is pretty weak compared to a 40 year old drug addict uncle who refused prison again. Those days are over now but the lies still continue. The lies that we will never be loved because we are something other than what our world has built for us, something other than a plain definition you can find in a book. Something other than blank. You were always daddy's little girl. Now you are the son he refuses to accept because they aren't the daughter that he was so proud of. That the little princess left to make room for a prince. That prince's kingdom turned on him, and now he lies 6 feet in the ground because of parents who refused to accept that she was just a boy who's heart was big enough for everyone and wasn't a prissy brat who's heart had room for only one person who would treat them wrong. I know I'm not what you wanted but if you could see passed the red veil you've sewn into those pretty blue eyes you had maybe you could see that although I'm not what you want. I'm still what you have. I may not be wanted or loved but if you weren't blind to feelings then maybe every morning I wouldn't be drowning in an ocean of pills just so that I'm stable enough to look at you without remembering the reason I was so desperate to leave in the first place. I'm probably not making much sense but it doesn't matter, I understand what I'm trying to say. People ask what's wrong and when I say they just say that ryhmn about sticks and stones. Don't pull those shit stories saying the names we were called didn't hurt more than a broken bone. I would rather be torn limb from limb then repeat my school days or even look at my family. "Kids can be cruel!" I know they can, but repeating that doesnt stop people from swallowing a bullet. We need help. Not some shit show song that just comfirms our theories of us being freaks. Yeah, we are freaks, walking the tightrope every night, someone of us falling. Freaks who were always on the edge because we didn't want to be a carbon copy. The only person I care about is my sister, and she was shipped off to the national guard. I think she knows she isn't coming back. I may be a sinking ship in a sea of sadness and lies but atleast I'm going down my way. With my crew. My crew may only be my insecurities but they were there for me when people weren't. In this world we have to get used to cuts on our wrists and cyanide in our bodies just so that we don't disappoint people we don't even know. Our faces were cut to fit the perfect smiles our parents never had and we were forced into beauty pageants to see which kid was more damaged and we couldn't do anything. If we cried we were battered more or threatened. "I'll give you something to cry about!" was a fraze that still echoes in my mind. My family hates me. They wanted a heterosexual little princess who aced her tests and saved herself for the right man. What they got was a transgender son who can fall in love with anyone. The son who no one talks about because he's failing his classes, the one who never had a choice to stay away from drugs or to save themselves. I'm not what you wanted. But I'm what I want. I am flawed yet perfect in everyway. Younger me wouldn't be proud of me, but that's because of what you put in her head. I'm sorry McKenna, I hope the memories I've left you with were the good ones. I've taken the ones of our arguments and our parents. We may have shared a body but I couldn't share minds. You were the good grades perfect daughter, and I'm sad to say I've become the no good stoner non existent son. I may not be McKenna anymore, but atleast I'm happy and not trapped in some unhealthy marriage dependent on make up sex and pills because a divorce was to expensive for them. My parents couldn't see what they put us through because they had so much ink and bleach running through them building this perfect paradise. Their paradise was nothing but whiskey lies and heroine needles. I'm open about myself because for so long I shut myself out from everyone even myself. I'm hear to see if people have had similar experiences, so that I can listen to them and help them. I can't do shit about myself, but that makes me unable to be saved, that doesn't mean I'm going to abandon others like I had been. I'm sorry younger me that you had so many lies shoved down your throat. I hope that whatever is left of that happy little girl is still smiling. I may have left her long ago but that doesn't mean I'm not proud of her. I'm not her anymore, but she was amazing in ever way despite what people said. She matched herself perfecting, but my mind wasn't built for a happy little girl. Happy being a bear minimum is sad because here I am, blank and angry because I can't express sadness to another person any more without feeling guilty.