When I was growing up I didn't think it would all end like this, who would? This isn't something you dream of it's not something you pray for.. it's just where you end up, I am just where life has thrown me. I can't say that I've ever felt terrible about any one thing, at least not to the point that I wished it into oblivion. Of course, there are people who have felt that way.. and that's why I am here. When I look around me I see nothing but white, a solid, penetrating white that is so pure it burns my eyes and reaches to the depths of my childish longings. Over in the corner, though, there is a tiny speck of black, black something I don't even know what it belongs to or how it ended up there, and I'm afraid to touch it might I taint it's pure colour and have its shade altered even in the slightest. The stark contrast it creates is refreshing, as I sit there, my ghostly white skin almost fading into my surroundings, I think of when the colours around me were overwhelming. Sometimes I close my eyes and I can see them again, but it just isn't the same, and it never will be again, this saddens me. I am not much of a writer, and I feel ashamed when I look at the work of the greatest artists, I don't feel my own inner beauty, though I'm sure it's there somewhere. That is why I am here as well, one of many reasons. No direction, no motivation, this is where you end up. In this white space, with the little black speck, and the person who shows up from time to time to make some sort of attempt to console, to soothe, to rinse away the pains of this existence. You'll see my picture on your wall, yes, that's me before this, before the pain and before the hurt and before the desolation. Remember me like that.. please, just don't try to bring me back from this anymore. I honestly would like to stay here a while longer before I move on.. to nothingness. At least here I have my speck, and I have my hair, the way it falls across my eyes and shades them from the white is nice. Of all the things about me I probably like this hair the most, but I'm not so sure I like anything else about me, and this is excluding outer appearance because I'm quite sure not many people are happy with that aspect of themselves. I do like this hair though, it shelters me, if I need to look away I can and if I need to hide my tears when the world brings them to me, I can do that as well. I don't like people to see my tears, they're something very private.. lately their appearance has been more frequent and accompanied by an urge, more of a longing. I've often laid in bed and sobbed, begging for everything to just let me go, let me out of this contract that is my life. I feel as if I don't have the option really, because I have too many people I am unwilling to hurt.. but if they weren't there, I'd probably still have reasons to remain here. Where would the trees be without me to look at them and comment on their beauty.. would the sky still be there if I couldn't see it any more? These are some things I think about from time to time. But I guess this really isn't it, you know? There is much more here, much that I haven't seen and much that I know I will see and experience and feel. Maybe some time I'll learn to love again, learn to trust.. perhaps there are humans who deserve that, trust. I don't really feel as if I know too many who do right now. I feel as if I shouldn't bother to have faith in any one thing, because it is pointless, so pointless, you can't trust anything..

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