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

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

My biggest mistake: not wanting to help myself into thinking I am happy, that change would come about without really trying to change, or wanting to change. Procrastinating about changing. I do want to change.

The same old dumb teachers teaching the same old dumb subjects in the same old dumb school. I seem to be kind of losing interest in everything. At first I thought high school would be fun but it's just dull. Everything's dull. Maybe it's because I'm growing up and life is becoming more blase.

Alone. The saddest word in the world.

I really am only one infinitely small part of an aching humanity.

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