In this world I live in we are labeled. Some label are true and some are not. Some are given by a mere mistake we've made in the past. Some are given by judgments made by the way we look, dress, speak, etc. It's sad. Why do you were label each other. How is that we make it seem like we are better than others when we're really not.
All the names and judgement we give people. Do they really deserve it. Just cause someone dresses how they want they are labeled. Why don't people understand words hurt. It's doesn't matter if it's a joke or not it does hurt. All these labels some people night actually believe that's what they really are.
But I know I'm no better. I've been labeled many things. But the one I hear the most is whore. For awhile it wasn't true. But now I live up to it. Everything I've done, I've deserve the title whore. I'm so pitiful. I desire to be humane so I use lust to fulfill that desire. I've learn from the past not to get to attached so I bounce from guy to guy. I can't help it. It's become a drug to me. I want to feel the warmth of another upon my skin. It's all an addiction. I just love it all. From the kiss to the way the touch me. Oh how sad. I'm such a whore. Its even sadder how sorry I feel for myself. I'm weak. I'm the reason why I'm in this hell. My whole life is pitiful. I get hurt by being called whore but I know I am. I know I'm just a petty whore.
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Suicidal Journal
Teen FictionEnter a mind of one who is confused. Someone who has no one to talk to. Someone who agonizes in pain and desperation. This is a story about a typical teen's suicidal journal. *please note that this story is written poetically*
