September 20, 1998 11:21 a.m.

the sky outside is a cloudy grey. befitting. it's loud in here, kids, birds, television, music. louder in my head. i think things and don't understand. Like people are better because they're not me. like i'll never be as good as the other things here. look at this place. it's a shame, a disgrace. the flowers are dead, but still in the vases. the windows always closed, door bolted. things thrown about, remaining where they fall. crayon drawings on the wall are nicer than the paint. AND YOU HONESTLY THINK I'M OKAY? change is inevitable and impossible all at once. people constantly around and they don't see me. they're looking past me into the creation of myself. i am crying and it's laughing for them. dying and they envy my living. i'll never fail because they say so. i'll never falter because they're looking at me now. i'm the weakest strength they've ever known. this circle here fascinates, emanates and it is a cage for me. i can't open my eyes. i can't see my breath in the clear cool air. they'll see me afraid, and that just isn't me. do you know what i want? do you really? then tell me. whisper it somewhere close to my ear if you can find it. tell me i want peace of mind. tell me i want a god. tell me i want a friend. tell me i want to hate them all. tell me anything, but that i want to be loved by you. because you can't see me, so you wouldn't know.

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