The paradoxes that exist in trying to discribe a person are endless, and in me their is no exception. So you try to figure me out cus im tiered of it.
Once upon a time, I decided that thinking doesn’t do me any good. So why do it? So I became a kid. but really it was just a cover up. I was a closet case, a basket case of contradictions and paradoxes, way to many for me to understand and be able to handle. That’s how you see me now. But you don’t see me. You just see the kid trying to hide a mind that’s burdened w thought.
I try but i jsut cant spell, or type. Thanks for reading anyway.