Now the only question I had to ask myself was , what was IT? What was I looking for?.

Stared out the window and looked into the sky just to find me in the same place inside my head thinking, but what was I thinking about? Suddenly the urge came again I had to cry but what was I really crying for.

A life with question, 

a desire to find the answers or someone that could answer them. I step back and realize that maybe I had them all along, suppressing them with the fear of knowing too much.

Knowing too much about life but most importantly knowing too much about myself.

For years I been stopping myself from realizing who I really am. Am I just a girl?

 a child,?

 women?

, an individual full of fear and anger or maybe just a psycho, hidden under the mask of a loving bitch.  

Where does it start? That's a huge question that I can't even answer, maybe I was meant to be this way or maybe the pain my mother suffered while she carried me reflected in my personality creating a monster or maybe just maybe I'm just creating an alternative story for my life.

 Who actually cares? It's not going to change who I am. At times I sit back with all the lights of and no sound but those of the voices I hear in my head and I try to stop thinking. Once I hear that thought might kill you but then I heard that what doesn't kill makes you stronger. It all led me to the conclusion that maybe my thoughts were making me stronger, and I don't mean physically but mentally. 

I had the power to manipulate, control and destroy without any force or effort of my body. As amazing as that may sound it wasn't what I was looking for. I look at my life and the only think of to describe everything, every event, every emotion, every action and reaction its pure sadness. Hatred comes to mind but what is hatred without sadness. I was sad, but why was I sad? 

Sometimes I was sad because the window was opened too wide or maybe cause my life just wasn't "right". I was just so sad, and that might answer the question of why I cried. You could say sadness created me in a way, sadness led me to create this person that felt happiness by causing pain. The urge to destroy not only others but myself. The urge to give up, the urge to say fuck and run right into traffic hoping there was a better future in death. All created by an irremediable sadness. I grew older and the ways to overcome my sadness became more dangerous, more exciting and the rush became greater and greater. Drugs, alcohol and much later on men.

What's better to heal sadness but to drink those tears Away. Bottle after bottle but it still came back. Drinking was too temporary to be the answer, so what was next. Life took an unexpected turn and men came before time, I met a guy but I was still a child inside. The fear of getting hurt or becoming a totAl whore didn't allow me to open up enough for it to last long. And there he went flying away like a bird but who was still there? Yea sadness that bitch.