I really don't know what I'm doing here. I used to be a writer--but I'm only sixteen, and I'm not sure if a writing career can end so soon. I hate over-analyzing, because it makes me think too much; I hate scribbling my feelings all over the internet, and I quite dislike anything that makes me write. My diary is dusty and neglected and would more than likely bite me if I tried to wake it from it's dust-bunny nest and force my teenage heartaches on its pages.

So what am I doing here?