If I Could Predict My Dying Words

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I was sitting in class today staring out the window. I just stared at it for such a long time. Reflecting on my life I guess. When doing this I thought to myself, "If I where to die tomorrow, would I be satisfied with my life?" I don't know how I got into such deep thought, but being in this state also gave me the idea to write about my life like I where dying. I think it gives you a very different perspective on life, and if I where to die tomorrow my dying words would go like this (if I could speak this much of course)


"I've listen to people my whole life tell me how my life should go. How a typical teen these days act. I've been categorized by society as an outcast in a crowd. Despite what they classify me as no one, and I say no one, not even my self truly knows me. I have to many angles and dimensions to me that you'd have to bend over backwards to even glimpse at one aspect of me.

I've been multiple people my whole life, acting one way to please the crowd. I am no longer me, but who I must adapt to be. People throughout my life would describe me differently, because I seem to act different around other people. Doing this so only clouds my self identity, so when I move (I sadly frequently do) I go through withdraws of the old me. My whole life seems to be just traces of past experiences.

No one ever saw all the sides to me, I'm a complex puzzle all my own. No therapist nor councilor could describe. Neither do my actions define me. I've never expressed the real me. I've grown interests in things past me's hated, and I've done things I've scorned. Know a days being unique is hard because conformity never allows it.

I look back at my life, disappointed in what I see. I've always been self secure do to what I see in the mirror. The way I dress, and the way I act are never my own. If I look inside me there is nothing I like personally that wasn't influenced by others. How does one talk about their life if it was all just the influence of others scrapped together?

My life is like the rain. I fall to easily, I cloud out the light, I keep everything inside until it spills out, others may try to predict me, but no one is 100% accurate. Some people love me, while others despise me. Some will come dance in the rain, will others will put umbrellas up to block it. People just learn to deal with me differently.

I'm so insecure. My whole life I've longed for belonging. I need to be praised. I need to be with others. I've been an outcast for so many years to leave with betrayal.

My whole life has been about my self discovery, and my journey should of kept on.

I wished someone would of talked to me on that first day on the bench, because it went downhill fast from there.

I'm speaking in the perspective of me dying of course, but I guess this is my life. I know you won't get the bench thing.... It's a really long story. Maybe I'll tell it in future chapters. I always appreciate the reads from everyone! I really do appreciate knowing someone likes my work! Thanks!

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