There is an empty space lurking somewhere behind my frontal lobe. I don't know how it came to be, but I am positive it is there. How could I feel so empty if it wasn't? Why would I be writing this if I knew I was complete?
I like to tell myself I live by a personal quote. But really, I know I have no direction. I have said so myself. I go with the flow. What flow? I am against all stereotypes, I am against being normal. I tell myself I am different but now I find myself questioning it. 'Am I different? Am I really? Can I say that in comparison to everyone in this world of ours, am I totally unique?' I don't know the answers to those questions just yet. I'm wondering if I ever will.
Sometimes I feel like crying even when there isn't anything to cry about. I curl into myself and try to pray, but I don't really know what that means. I'm not religious, but I believe in a heaven and a hell. I believe in guilt and sin and corruption. But it isn't in those religious things I find any comfort. The only comfort I find in them is knowing that yes, the world is going to end and yes, we are all going to die some day. Revelations are true. If there is such a thing as sin is there such a thing as forgiveness? I don't think so. There ends my religious beliefs. I'm with Sarah. 'We are all sons of bitches.'
I don't want to mope and wonder where it all went wrong. If I did that I would be common and like every other being in those fictional stories. Isn't that what heroes do? Don't they sit around after they make a mistake and wonder how the hell it happened? Or is that just the fate of all mankind?
I don't know, I'm not one for placing judgment on others. I'm just sitting here, writing this, pouring my heart out for the world to read it. I can't have a diary any more. It hurts to read it. But I can say this:
"Commonality is infectious, I'm getting out while I still can."
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