Alone. The saddest word in the world.

I'm afraid to live and afraid to die.

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.

Lying - remembering beauty in truth.

How is it possible for me to be so miserable and embarrassed and humiliated and beaten an function still talk and smile and concentrate?

I'm not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I've gotten from books.

one day I'll be old, without ever having really been young