Contraptions.

I have so much to say. So many filtering thoughts and images flinching through every pulse.
I was informed of my negativity. How my writings are dark and scary. It may have been a poking finger, a slam down, but it had truth. Maybe I shouldn't bare my soul for those who choose to read to see. That should be kept in private perhaps. Everything should be written down in journals, where they can join the other heaps and stacks of them filled to the brim. I won't write the scary nightmares, the anxiety, the anguish anymore. I am sorry if I offended others. I guess only positive things for now on. I can be fake too. I can flash a smile.