It's Just me
I write random things. I don’t know why, I just do. It’s weird. It’s like a compulsion. I feel like I need to do it. Nobody understands even if they want to. I’m the only one that tries to understand and I’m the only one that every will because I’m the only one that knows what goes through my mind. The whole truth: I’m the only one that will ever understand me so I’m the only one that can love me for me. Nobody bothers to try and understand me and I don’t think they can. To be honest I’m not sure if I want to understand me. There are things that go through my mind that I once thought I could never dream of. Something’s I think of are disturbing and if anyone read my mind they would have nightmares. It disturbs me that these things have no affect on me other than making me think about them more. Having death on your mind is never a good thing but I don’t see death. In my mind I see people being tortured, hurt sometimes even eaten. If anyone knew the truth of my mind they probably wouldn’t like me. Nobody understands what goes through my mind and I hope they never find out because it’s horrible. Nobody loves me but if they knew the sick thoughts in my mind they would all hate me. I can’t tell anyone about this and its killing me inside. I’m alone with this, I’m on my own. It’s just me. I’m alone.