I wrote this... thing about how I felt late night some time ago. I forgot what I meant by 2 weeks but saved it as a note.
Words: they mean one thing but Under the surface another; they're like icebergs. How one puts them together is not simple. One doesn't go ahead and put them together on a piece of string and hope they fit. Grab a fancy word here, grab a word there and stick em in the same sentence. The sentences become paragraphs, the paragraphs become pages, the pages become a book. And it all begins with a word.
Who am I? I am a person who'd like not be known. People are strange to me and they don't make sense neither. Who am I? I am me I am not saying my name because I can't say my name since it's my name and I refer to myself oddly. I have a name.
So I think 14 days is enough time to write a story about nothing, unrealistic in reality. No it's not enough but it will be since nothing can be written about nothing; nothing is something.
Who you are matters No it doesn't. I am insignificant in a world with 7 billion people in it. We are each insignificant. No I amn't depressed, it's just the way of things.
I could tell you about myself but I'd rather remain a stranger that way
Who am I? Who the heck am I? I can't answer that. What I'm writing has no answers, just questions. Who do I appear as? Who do you think I am?
It's better to be negative than positive. At least then the good things will come unexpectedly and the bad will come expectedly so that's not entirely bad.
No one says anything interesting, people my age that is. They're boring. They are absurd to because they think in life there's something to believe in. I don't think there is.
Why don't nobody ever understand? Yes they do I just can't explain it to them the way I understand. No they don't since you can't explain it right. And you also you common words too much. You're an idiot
I can't say how I feel and I can't say my name My feelings aren't said, only shown and someone else will tell you my name. I can't write feelings, someone might think Have you no feelings? when criticizing my essays. Although I am secretly emotional. It's not good to talk about it or write about it. Better kept inside as a secret than letting the cruel world know.