I don't know how vulnerable to be online
Which parts of me are for the world? Should I share that I'm constantly depressed when I seem like I'm not? Should I share that I force myself to be a realist to acheive being an idealist? Shouls I share that I have a crippling internet addiction? Should I share that I always fear that I'm not good enough, that people will turn their backs on me and leave? Should I share that I've been daydreaming that someone will read this piece, or another one like it, and feel compelled to reach out and tell me that they think I'm a good writer? Should I share that I constantly get caught dreaming about my ideals and slap myself on the face to rid myself of the naivete? Should I share that my family doesn't feel like my family, but my home feels like my home? Should I share that I long for a dark, lonely night at home with the sole companion of soft rain and the internet, where no one is around? Should I share that although ChatGPT praises my writing, I live in dread of my English exams? Should I share that every time my mother opens her mouth and yells, it pierces into the depths of my mind, shattering it into sharp, broken shards and filling my brain with both pure emptiness and sheer noise? Should I share that I'm afraid that the people around me don't find me engaging? Should I share that I despise attention hoes and find myself acting the same way? Should I share that I eat late night snacks to satiate my sadness then obsess over my weight? Should I share that I lie to myself to make myself happy if not for the people around me whom I feel pressured to satisfy? Should I share that I long to be able to put my raw and true emotions into my violin, but hate myself as I fail over and over again? Maybe.