both.

My knees are pulled up underneath the hoodie. I'm once again using it as a security blanket, but for different reasons than before. It's no longer Fern's at all, really. I adopted it as my own.

There's this pretty girl. She's moderately happy. She's going to be famous.
I know her better than anyone else, I'm sure.

I don't feel like her the majority of the time, though. That's the problem. It's as though there's this other person living within my flesh; it's someone who feels uncomfortable crying in front of most people, who knows how to make other people laugh, who knows exactly what to do to fit in with any group of people she has to. She's generally honest and straight-forward.
Minus a few things, she's all the things I want to be.

I see this more grown-up version of myself as a completely separate person from my old self, even though she's essentially the same.


There was a secret on PostSecret this week that I especially connected to, but I don't think I'm ready to admit that I did. It scares me, and hurts me.