The Dear Diaries: Part Two

Dear Various customers,
Hello, how are you? Thats good. Listen, I'd just like to clarify something for you: I'm not french. Nor am I Greek, Turkish or Italian. Why you are so interested in my heritage is unkown to me but the constant questioning and assessing is starting to get quite old. Oh and just because I work in an Italian restaurant does not mean that I know how to reply back to you in Italian you old, rich creeps.
So lets get a bit of clarification happening here. My biological Grandfather on my fathers side is Czechoslavakian and my Grandmother on my mothers side is Polish. The rest of me is allllll convict. Awesome, I'm glad we have this sorted.
Signed,
Fake Frenchie

Unconsciously Conscious: Part Two

Sometimes I want to drink coffee with two sugars all day until I become sedated just waiting waiting waiting for my metal heart to explode but some people say that I don't have a heart anyway and sometimes I believe them because I'm so cold and I'm so bitter and I don't let anyone in and I just want to lay down somewhere quiet and wonder why I'm like this and why I'm so scared of people and why I wait and wait for something that I'm not sure is coming and just listen to music and pretend that it can transform me into something that I'm not and sometimes I want to yell at people and tell them to leave me alone and to stop pressuring me because truth is you have all crumbled me down into a million pieces and locked each part of me in your secret wardrobe and swallowed the key and now I'm reduced to nothing and sometimes I wait for someone to come and put me back together but I know you aren't coming because you don't care anymore and you say we are too different but the truth is that I don't really know who I am anymore because I've dropped pieces of my personality in lakes and rivers and they've washed away and sometimes I can't even take photographs because I'm scared of documenting dark times like this because I don't want people to ever feel the way I do because it's torture and sometimes I want to run so fast that my lungs burn and catch fire and sometimes I want to sit under water and see if I can convince myself to start breathing and sometimes I wonder if I'm even real or is this just a big game to see how long I last and when I drink wine I lay on the ground and convince myself that I can stop my heart from beating and sometimes I think that if I shut my eyes for long enough I'll disappear.