i was staring and this box so white and clean and full of potential, when i realized...

what am i doing? i doubt myself in everything. not that that has anything to do with this. i dunno. at the moment, i feel like im wasting. everything, which isnt much. because im only 16 and ive amounted to nothing. and thats fine. because i "have my whole life ahead of me." and at this point im making no sense, not even to myself. i am writing for the sake of writing and thats a sin.

its been real.