Diary of a Loner, Diary of Me....
Wednesday, Feb. 11, 2004, 7:27 P.M.

The days we live in just seem to pass us by, as if we are standing still. The world is passing me by, and all I can do is stand still, observe and wounder. Its like I'm stuck. I can't move, feel, or even cry for help. I'm in a mold, I can't move my feet, hands or body. I am mentally crying for help...but all the people around me see is a mold, a statue, of something. Something that just seems to take up space. (Like when your in the park and there is a statue, and you wounder why the hell that is there.)And as these days pass me by I wounder if I play a part in them. It feels like my life is passing by, and I go to reach for it and its gone. I'm standing observing, feeling, and wondering. I feel like a girl in the corner. Sitting with my knees to my chest, and staring, just staring into the void. I'm staring at nothing, I'm feeling nothing, and wondering nothing. I'm feeling misled, confused, and yet feeling all together at the sometime. I'm not wondering, I'm not thinking, I'm not even feeling any more. I'm just being me...A girl sitting in the corner staring into the void, of nothing. Not thinking not getting confused. I'm wearing a white dress of rags, my hair let down, and my arms cut. But it don't affect me, because its not me.... Your beauty is that of a starving soul looking for peace and prosperity. You dieing eyes are of gray shadows and a blue show of pain and misery, that spell nothing. You unwilling smile that of a spokes man afraid to show emotion, for that may change him. You arms are your killer your pain and your refuge. They serve as your servile course...