What can i say about me? What I can say is that I do not want to write this essay. Not at all. Why? Because I don’t want to write a personal statement. I know that’s what you’re trying to get me to do. Everybody does. But I don’t want to write one. I don’t write one because yesterday, while walking to my dad’s car after school I stepped in wet concrete. Just stepped right in it. And my father was trying to tell me to watch my step but it was too late by then. Afterwards he was complaining about how ‘you people’ are brain dead and always looking at your phones and blah blah blah. And I started crying and I didn’t mean to cry I just started feeling really sad all of a sudden and long story short I got muffin.

I’m such an a**hole. I feel I act vulnerable all the time just because to get people to like and now it’s like a mask who’s inside was pasted with glue and slapped onto my face and I just can’t get it off no matter how hard I keep pulling. I don’t feel real and I hate this essay. But honestly sometimes I don’t feel real. All of the other essays I wrote sucked because they ignored the fact that I don’t deserve this essay or any of the opportunities I’ve been given. Obviously I’m not an idiot because I’ll take some of them anyways but it feels wrong. What I’ve become is a shell of something. I’m like a plastic object being passed between groups and technologies and peoples and parties. Don’t you see it I’m being controlled. I’m being used they got me pinned from behind and I can’t say anything different because what if those are just words put into my mouth by them. They own us and there’s nothing we can do.

Point number one, I’m unfocused, I should not go to your school because I can’t focus. I’ve been brainwashed. I can’t think for myself. I need to stop being an a**hole. Here am I talking up bull**** where as my sister and my parents are actually stressed. I’m never gonna get a job. I am undeserving. Selfish. How are the other people in my class not. Did they never feel bad about getting older. How could the other people and adults respect them I will never get anyone’s respect never get an adult’s respect as an adult. People don’t challenge me anymore, because they know I’m too stupid and pathetic too emotional. I’m too weak. Very inconsiderate. You know after all the time I’ve spent crying I’ve realized the only person I really cry for is myself? Except for Specle, Luke, and Kurt. But besides them I’m the only one I’m crying for. I don’t cry for anyone else. Is there something wrong with me? I’m a plastic person with a plastic head with a plastic brain filled with plastic thoughts. And a plastic body with plastic bones, and plastic tits and plastic hips. I don’t think I feel real anymore. I’m floating. I’m clip art cut-out sliding on a space background on a computer screen. It’s not real. I’m inside my head eyes glazing over like I’m watching t.v. It’s not real. What i’m doing, what I’m saying, how I’m looking at there face right now. It doesn’t matter because it’s not real. I can’t feel embarrassed because it’s not really real. Because I don’t feel like it’s real. The real me is locked up somewhere in one of the many rooms of my head somewhere and she’s banging on the door screaming “there’s someone in my head but it’s not me.” 

I’m the lunatic laughing on the grass. I’m laughing all the way to hell. Won’t you come with me? I think I’m lost but I don’t want to be found. They’ll never catch me. All this self-pitying and victimizing and blaming will go to waste what a shame. I’ve already brought the party materials why stop now? Because outside it’s not real. The starting gun has shot it’s shot. No matter crying over lost time now. This is how things is, how we are. This is what our long walk on a winding road looks like. You ever wondered why you can’t drive a car? Because you a plastic person behind the wheel and you’re about to crash. You’re gonna kill us all.