Have u met the VIII, eight boys and girls who have devoted to be the worst people I have ever met, most crazy, most insane and most petty. To you all my worst vices and fun times, to you all the morals defied and fears overcome.

I do love them deeply, yet I’m left to wonder, why is it that the worst people are my best friends? I consider myself a truly good person. Should I have to sacrifice, it would be for one of the eight. People who would die and are worth dying for. Are they truly the worst people?

Its been about this lately … I don’t even know why but it’s helped me make informed choices. A part of me feels like I feel that way because they are people who are not trying to screw me over and even when they stab me in the back it’s because they might be falling and I have to be the rock on which they latch on to.

I’m crazy but they are worst off. I’m justified. I don’t have to pretend. I have nothing to hide, I have nothing to hide, I have nothing to hide. You all know the darkest part of me, for even the things I have never said yet you are always there.

I hope you will always be.



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