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Whoa
Wednesday. 7.7.04 1:45 am
Whoa. Nutang changed. Too green.

Anyways, yeah, I think I'm back to my old self again. The fight with my parents was bad. I don't even want to talk about it. In fact, I refuse to talk about it. I'm back to keeping everything inside. My mind is numb and I'm lost in another world, another mind, another being. Things said from anger cut deep. And sometimes even an apology can't mend the wound when it's too deep. My insides are bleeding and I'm slowly dying once again. To die over and over again for eternity seems to be my only destiny. At least when I'm angry, I know what I'm talking about. But then again, I've never really been angry to the point where I just say something I don't mean.

It's sad, but I'm back to my apathetic ways. I'm not even depressed right now. I don't feel much of anything and I really don't want to feel anything. Sadness, happiness, whatever. I don't want to feel it. I don't see the need to feel anymore. There's moments when I want to cry, but that is immediately washed from my mind. I don't see the point of crying. What's the point? Crying won't help. And I don't feel anything. I don't need to cry.

A customer asked me today if I was excited about going off to college soon. I told him, no. I want to stay in high school. I want to stay young. He says, "Well, that's really unusual, most people your age want to go off to college and have some fun." I don't understand why people my age want to grow up so damn fast. The only difference between high school and college is that you are kind of supporting yourself. There's the same dumbasses in college. And four years isn't a long time. Soon, you'll graduate and get a job, pay taxes and bills, get screwed over. Yeah, we might get more freedom in college, but we'll also get more hell. I've seen enough people to know that I don't want to go out into the big bad world yet. I'm keeping my precious childhood until it's forced out of me.

Maybe I'm not so apathetic. But enough. Once again, I'm starting to see it as a good thing. Maybe in about a year I'll be able to talk about what happened, but I really don't like festering my wound.


I don't feel like there is anything to live for anymore.
See me.
I am Death.
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