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A corpse in the snow, died trying to be free ( 11 March 2004 - 11:44 p.m. ) Because I am wrong. I've tried, but I'm not right. I'm always slightly shifted from what everyone else is thinking and doing. I can't behave right, cos I don't think right. One has to fit in somewhere to live. And I don't think I do. I hate what I'm doing, I so desparately want to escape. So badly want to run away. It's crippling me, tearing me down, forcing me to the floor. But I know there is nothing wrong with me, nothing I can change. I just am, and I'm wrong for the world. Which is why I so badly need help to live, why I'm so tired. But if no one understands, how can they help? How the hell can they see what I do, when what I see is so wrong? I the end I'm alone, but I can't handle it on my own. People are always tearing the beauty out of things, ripping it apart, until only a hard kernel is left. And living off that instead of the fruit. Why can't they see, why are they so harsh? Why is everything such a fucking competition, why is no one looking? Why do I always get so angry, so that I want, I need to damage myself? What am I doing here? The cold wind forces frozen sleet into my face as I walk, and all I can think is that I can't go back, I can't return. Because it's all killing me. And when it eventually does, there will be no one left to stop it. | |||||||||