I’m fake. I’m not real. I’m just an illusion and everything around me is fake too. Everything hurts. Everything’s too much. Everything is way, way, way, way, way too much. And I hurt so bad. Every muscle hurts. Loneliness hurts. Sadness hurts. Emotions hurt. It’s all fake. I’ve never been real. This is all just way too much and I have no reason to feel this way except that I’m crazy. I’m crazy and it hurts and I’m insane and it’s an effort to walk and can’t do anything but live in my head and I’m just crazy. Plain crazy. End of story. Good night, folks; the freak show has left the building. Let me put on that happy face and show everyone what they want to see; it’s all just an act. For a crazy person. For a fake, crazy person. I have nothing left. I am nothing. I don’t want to be anything. I want to be everything. I want to be here with him. I want to be there with her. I want to be anywhere besides with me. I want to be around people. I don’t want to have to fake a smile or a good personality or a sexual drive or a resonating factor. I want to be alone. I want to be held. I want to punch someone. I want to punch something. I want a hug. I want a kiss. I want to love. I want to feel. I want to be numb. I’m just fake. Fake, insane, crazy, drug addicted, starving, binging, borderline, suicidal, mad, self injuring, hypnotized, ADD, OCD, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, stupid, idiotic, high, low, down, deep deep deep down, in a hole, underneath, so above, in love, in hate, confused, contemplating, immoral, moral, black and white, question of myself. And I’m in pain. So much fucking pain. So much fucking pain… Burning, searing pain. Everywhere. In everything. In everyone. In me. Deep, deep, deep, deep down in me. And I’m dying. Slowly, painfully, dying. Contently dying. Shaking crazy, mad as a hatter, can’t cry, needs to cry, dying. Oh, so slowly. I wish death would hurry up. I’m a robot. Doing what I’m supposed to. Saying what I’m supposed to. Acting like I should. But nights and mornings are the worst and the real me shows and I cut my leg to see the blood and feel the pain and realize I’m real and I get scared of being real so I cut more to become numb and to get high and so the pain stops and so the pain soothes and I’m falling faster and faster and faster and I’m trapped in my head and I don’t see what you see; I have an alternate reality. And I’m manic. And I’m depressed. And I’m high. And I’m crashing. And I’m alive. And I’m dying. And I’m in pain. And I’m fake. And then… I’m silent.