ktmn110

I am fifteen but my body and mutinous mind are not mine. I have scars on my arms and memories of dark beauty-- bitter beads of blood seeping shadows. slide the knife unzip my skin and step outside-- who would I be and how would I look? perhaps I'm hollow? what if-- underneath all this-- I'm not actually real? maybe I was never here just a dream or was it a nightmare? everybody wants me to act my age but I'm fifteen so God only knows what that means. not a child not so innocent not an adult still too young. I have to learn to talk to adults and make phone calls to strangers and manage my money and drive a car. I have to take care of th