I looked into his eyes and I knew what was going to happen. So I just closed my eyes and accepted the tragedy. For many years, I shut that place down inside my self that wanted to scream with rage, cry, and basically just express herself. I stopped being the cheerful girl I once knew and was now very grim and unhappy. I find myself wanting to be like everyone else, but now that I think about it thoroughly, it's a stupid decision to want to be a brainwashed follower of a clique. Sure, it's nice to have a place where you belong, but is it all worth it in the end? Because of indifference, one dies before actually dying. I won't actually be content with myself until I die.
People act like they understand you, but in all seriousness, they don't. They are mentally incompetent when it comes to the thoughts of others. I smile, but the rage inside me makes me stronger. I try to channel the pain into something good, but it controls my mind and consumes in a bottomless pit of rage and despair. I hope something changes soon. I hope that my arms will quit suffering the consequences.
Sorry for the short chapter, but I thought it was an interlude that needed to be added.
