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Im not much of a writer, or a thinker... or really much of anything. My thoughts swirl around my head like an endless cyclone of miserable feelings and contemplations of death. Ew that's dark, shut the fuck up Jenna. "Life isn't that bad." is what everyone loves to tell me. And yeah you know what, life isn't that bad. But its not that great either. It's 'mid' I guess. Here I am, just turned 21, at the beginning of my life, of what should be the highlight of my life... and yet, it's mid. Most days I'm angry at the attempts I failed when I was 16, the idea that everything after that could've been bliss. The past five years of my life could've been spent floating in the void of nothingness, in the beautiful silence of death. But I guess that would no longer be considered my life due to my absence. Instead I've been floating around in the void of society... heartbroken, raped, used, perfectly pulled apart and then imperfectly put back together. Most days I choose not to believe this is real life, cause how could it be. This is hell, a beautifully built inferno.