I just feel that when all is said and done, I am not insane.
Eating meat is the most disgusting thing I can think of. It's like biting into your grandmother.
I was wasting my life, always thinking about myself.
I have seen one or two psychiatrists. They just sit and nod and doodle.
I'm not very good at being dull.
Can you squeeze me into an empty page of your diary and psychologically save me?