It's a good thing most people bleed on the inside or this would be a gory, blood-smeared earth.

I can't believe that I changed so little. I expected to look old and hollow and gray, but I guess it's only me on the inside that has shriveled and deteriorated.

I wouldn't intentionally hurt anyone in this whole world. I wouldn't hurt them physically or emotionally, how then can people so consistently do it to me? Even my parents treat me like I'm stupid and inferior and ever short. I guess I'll never measure up to anyone's expectations. I surely don't measure up to what I'd like to be.

How can thoughts hurt so much when they aren't even physical?

Maybe the new me will be different.

I’m really cracking. No, I’m beyond cracking. I’m shattered. I’m lost. I’m fragmented.

Why is life so difficult? Why can't we be just ourselves and have everyone accept us the way we are?