Som en dagbok fylld med känslor.

tisdag 4 maj 2010

anything that makes me happy. someone who makes me feel good. Mom would just like to help, but I do not want to talk to her. not with anyone else either. it makes me sick. I can not just open your mouth and talk, I can not open up myself to anyone. my way to talk is by writing. I never get any good answers, but, what should I do? it's not that I do not want to talk. it's just that I can not. it's not that I do not want to feel good. it's just so that I can not. I want to skip, jump and smile of happiness, but I can not. I want to. please, just take me out of here. I sat in my own shit. always uncanny. always dependent. get me out of here. away. I want to be with myself. alone. alone with myself and the music. in a lone house in a lonely world. where I can not hurt myself. where only I, and the music exists. so please. take me out of here.

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