this might just be it

was on a daze browsing through my own life. it seemed peculiarly comical how i got myself into situations. my words, my drifts, my drafts. how i got in, and how initially i got out of undesired dramas. a follower, i may say, not wanting to have my own decisions and always relying on others' own picks. it is difficult dealing with dilemmas and i do not argue for what i truly desire because it was their choices. i am fickle and indecisive, and always beating around the bushes. when i am mad, i tend to say the truth, where i'll use dictionary words which fits in harmoniously with my sentences, which would more likely be music to some ears. i am seventeen and i wish i was still five. no handphones, no infatuations, but the pure love of family and camaraderie. i blame myself for not doing things well and that of hurting my victim's lives. no doubt or less that i thank God for blessing me with a mind blissful enough to make a choice to take this precious step a good one. i have learned not to lean on walls or pretty words. i've enough of holding on to choices. and i believe on saying maybe. i've yet to grow a year older nor ten.
goodnight.