Peter Pan

I've been growing up lately. Not to say that I'm in any way mature or anything, I'm a few months into fourteen, and as young and stupid as the rest of them. But life has been going along merrily for me for quite a while. I started this thing in year seven, just because I could, and it's helped me through wanting to cut and kill myself, pulling out my hair and cutting it all off and god knows what else. But I'm alright now. I still pull out my eyebrows when I'm bored or stressed, but my hair hair is fine, and everything else seems to be in this disgustingly dull state. It's alright though, I'm alright. I don't think I need this anymore. Me and my first kiss have been over for too long for it to have any effect on me (not that it did in the first place) and I've got stuff to worry about but I can handle it and I've got people telling me I'm good at stuff all of a sudden and my Christmas haul is perfect, it's got almost everything I need to carve out the new me that I've been inside my head for about a year, and let it run loose. I've at least got enough to start. The point is that I'm not sure what I'll become and I'm not sure when it's gonna happen, but it's gonna be good, and I'm going to do well and have fun doing it. This blog is full of my pains, but all I have now is boredom and hope. Hope will win out, I've got two best friends to guarantee that. Didn't I tell you? They've been here all along. And they're brilliant.