Fake people bother me. I don't understand them, and I don't think I want to. They change so often you don't know who they are. You think you figure them out, and then 2 seconds later they change. ::sighs:: Why must they bother me so? I guess itz b/c they can't be themselves, are too scared to. They say one thing, yet believe another. Why can't they just tell everyone what they think? I'm not really writing to well tonight, I dunno why I even continue. My depression has come back. And it sux. I guess they just bother me when I'm like this, b/c my little mental blocks I put up aren't there.I can't write right now...

Well once again I'm trying to write, I'm not sure how good it will be since I'm picking this up after a short absence. But fake people still bug the fuck outta me. I don't understand them, and I don't think I want to either. What urges them to be something they are not? Popularity? Or some stupid reason like that? I mean I know when I was impressionable and young, I was fake. Then I realized that people seem to like you better if you are yourself. I mean I had friends b4, but they weren't real friends. They were the fake Lynn's friends, and I got sick of being fake Lynn. I wanna be me!!!! heh. Sorry, i'm a bit hyper right now as I write this. A great change from my earlier mood when I wrote "The Depths of My Depression..." Well anyways, on with why fake people suck ass. heh. They do I swear. Well ok, I don't know for sure, I'm just guessing here. I know some great people, who are themselves. They don't try to hide everything behind some veil. I mean I don't think I'm fake? Am I? I dunno. I assume I'm not since I do things b/c I want to, or b/c I'm conned into them. ;D And now I realize people actually like the me on the inside. They like the freaky, fucked up Lynn. Sure I don't go out and tell them all the shit I've been through, but hey, what ever. They find out eventually. Usually I tell them, even though now they can read it on my page, woo hoo... heh. I mean I know what happened to me, and I accept it, itz a part of me. I accept the anger and hatred that it spawned, I know I shouldn't but I do. They are my emotions, and I feel them. Everyday. I don't act happy for people who want me to cheer up. I mean sorry if I can't be the perfect little example for them, but fuck that. I'll be me! No fakeness for me!!! heh. I swear I'm a freak. Anyways. I think I've babbled, and I know this sux compared to some of my other essays, but I can't be great all the time. Even though I know I suck. (Matt, yes the stuff I write DOES suck, no matter what you say) Well anyways, BuH ByE!

~Lynne