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I need something to do. Something to keep me occupied. I need a dream. Something to hold on to, something to keep me here and sane. There's this heart I hide on my sleeve, drawn into my wrist, embedded into my skin. There's this vein I carve into to try and bleed myself out. I do it to live. I do it feel. I do it because I can and I just need something to do.

I type because it's here, and write because it's the clostet thing to telling the truth. I speak and I lie. I sing and I lie. You look at my face and you see a lie. Only writing is the truth, the only truth I know.

Watching tv is a past time, something I'm ashamed of. I want to do more. I need to do more. I want run, and to dance and to learn. I want to be better than anyone else ever was in my framily but I know that its not possible. So I do what it is I do and that's be lazy all the time. It's what I'm good so why change. Why stop?