the miserable life of a miserable teenager -
chapter ten - manipulator
I am what I was raised to be. It’s something in my brain,
maybe a switch.
Whatever it was, it flipped.
The priority was me, my success.
I guess, I could've been born like this,
just never noticed because,
it comes so naturally.
The mental list in my head of the different personalities I would display to different people.
That can’t be normal, right?
I don’t even know who I am,
I don’t think I ever have.
It’s always been a show.
But when does it stop?
Is that why I can’t be alone with myself?
Because I am not a person?
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