I'm shy, insecure, miserable, starving, barely scraping by, and sick of living this way.
None of you, and I mean none of you have even then slightest idea of what I'm going through.
Okay? So stop trying to 'help'.
Now that we got that over with, y'all should know I'm five-eleven, and stick-thin.
Not from a fast matabalism, or an eating disorder.
i don't have enough money for food.
My dad is high 99% of the time, the other 1% passed out, drunk.
He spends all of my money on drugs and achohol.
My mom died from terminal cancer when I was 8.
I spend my time either riding, working, or in the woods, shooting.
I shoot longbow.
Now, don't go all "Oh, she's Katniss!!!", because that really gets on my nerves.
I. Am. No. Book. Charector.
I'm real. Totally alive. I am in no way, shape, or form, made up. K?
Besides, most of you have never been hunting.
You hike miles, rarely finding any life.
At least, if you're an ameteur.
I am a pro.