Protected: Fraction of sanity, turn on a dime; shatter.

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Protected: Underneath the big black sun.

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Protected: Unregistered SIM.

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Invega.

I want to burn. I want to burn with you.

I say only crazy people can commit acts of dark deeds, of murder, of rape. I say it because I’m afraid.

I’m afraid. I justify all these actions for you. I justify them all. I say I don’t believe in evil, only crazy. Because than what does that make me? Evil? No. Neither are you. I justify it because I want to believe we’re both good. It’s a silly hope and I cling to it.

I won’t believe in hell, because he killed himself.

I won’t believe in hell, because they’re gay.

I won’t believe in hell, because she steals.

I won’t believe in hell, because she fucks.

I won’t believe in hell, because of what you do.

I won’t believe in hell, because I made them kill themselves.

I won’t.

But I still want to burn with you. Like you said, at least we can roast marshmallows.

Hey, I never said this before…

But I fucking hate marshmallows.

aristocracy; Machiavellianism.

I had lived Seventeen and a half years of my life not realizing that I was dancing along the string ‘high class society‘. My mother was a single parent, often leaving me to the care of babysitters, always telling me;

“Sarah, it doesn’t matter how you feel, it matters how people see you.”

I was always the well mannered proper child, even at age of four. Never ask. Don’t speak unless spoken too. From a young age I set classes up for people, and decided just who to speak with and who to impress by the status I viewed them in. Always remembering to be nice to everyone, because they just might grow up and be something. I didn’t have to even like them, but if they wanted to be friends, then I was expected to be the best damn friend they’d ever have.

I’m flabbergasted as to how I never saw this before. How I didn’t realize. How I couldn’t have realized before that the whole “appearances are everything” was part of this little system I was a part of. Never let anyone know how much money we have, Sarah, they’ll shun you.

Everyone had a class, and I put myself at the bottom. I wanted to be there. I always pretended to be a lot stupider than I was, I let my friends win at chess games, or I’d draw something and let my friends take the credit.

Remember to always laugh at jokes, Sarah. And stop saying you love me. If you had a boyfriend and you did that to him, he’d leave you.

There was a flaw. I was, and still am, most likely missing a few screws in my head. I set up classes, sure, but I saw things either in an animal system or in clans. Everything was always warped.

I had a constant urge to make people think they were better than me. To flatter them endlessly, to shower them in compliments, to agree with whatever it was they wanted to hear.

Because inside… inside…

It had to be that way.

Aristocracy, plutocracy, meritocracy, autocracy, oligarchy… I was obsessed with it all. The classes. The systems. The ranking system. The beautifully well sculpted lies of the rich dance.

The game was remarkably easy to play. Words strung together and flowered elegantly. Meanwhile every secret, every piece of gossip, was manipulated, retold, addressed.

Backstabbing. Betrayals. The secrets. The dangers. The affairs.

And I wasn’t even out of middle school.