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Fragmented Self who wanders through life like a dreamer and wades through the river of dreams as though it were the only truth left in this world
Sanity
It's a lie when I hear that he would never hurt me. It's an even bigger lie to believe that somehow I would get a chance to make him real.

The renovation on the kitchen has really stressed me out. I am breaking out, only eating dinner (no breakfast or lunch), not taking my pills at all, locking myself in my room, binge eating, and not helping out around the house. I have been stressing out big time and it's not all due to midterms. I have also been freaking out because of therapy and stuff coming up. I keep thinking I'll be all alone. I'll be all alone for my birthday. I can feel it and it frightens me so. I'm so ******** terrified.

My head is itchy. I cry every morning again. I don't like to sleep. I don't sleep much. I wish I would dream. I'm stressed out. I'm freaking out.

I realize how unique it is to be so empathetic and value myself. I weep though that there are not many that can understand someone like me. I may be able to understand others but my depth is often out of eyesight. There are deep emotions and thoughts to most of my actions.

I'm retreating into my books and it is nice. It has been a long time. I miss drawing but no longer weep or berate myself over it.

It's almost been another year. Another year. Another year.





 
 
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