i wrote this forgot to put it up

my friend won't let anyone know these things or open to anyone so i wright them down to share hope he doesn't kill me

I hate to addmit this but I never feel guilty, I forgive everyone ALWAYS no matter what happend, I still love anyone I ever loved I never stop loving them, I never stop carring about someone. I guess I'm fucked up like that. I mean who the hell is like that? I mean yes i may forgive and love you but I may still hate you too. Theres an old indian story about two woves the live in each of us one good one evil. In the story the kids ask the old man what wolf wins and the reply is simple, What ever one you feed the most will win. But what if you feed them both to hold them both knowing you need both them with you in your life. I need both wolves in my life to servive this life. . . maybe one day will I will let go of all my pain and everything I hold inside me but my pain and lonelness is onlything I have known all of my life. They are things I feel complete with and I felt whole once but thats for another time not now. . . don't think anyone will read this anyways so oh well its here but question I leave for you this time is this. Does anyone still hunt and look for the truth anymore?

my friend won't let anyone know these things or open to anyone so i wright them down to share hope he doesn't kill me

Sometimes you wake to the world wondering whats there to see today? What is new in this world that won't care to hear the truth. How many times today will you fall back onto your mask like a crutch to get you though the day. A mask with a smile apon the it always saying "I will be fine". But yet no one seems to see the mask is chiped and broken only a fragment of its former self people of how often you must use it within this life. And the ones you take it for for and try to go against your will telling your self to try to be honest with, they never beleave you and knowing that they are the only one you let the walls fall for. They see you exposed and naked fully vonrable and still stick the knife in you and yet you still love them and care even if they no long care about you. You wonder, when you find you didn't die, why when this always happen with them. You cover your self put the armor and walls back where they go and lastly put your mask back apon your face and then go though living even though no one sees the truth or even that your leaving a trail of blood behind you. . . .