I don't know what happened. I don't know why they are yelling again. I don't care enough to try to find out.
They ask us why. I do not know why.
Do we need a reason? We live life without a reason when we are born.
But they tell me that there always is a reason and that my thinking will only hurt me. I think they don't want me to think. I don't want to either. But what can I do?
"An overactive imagination" is what they say. I do not think so. Imagination implies some new ideas. I do not think of new ideas but of the truth.
I don't like them. I don't like this world. I don't like ANYONE and they don't like me back. My fault.
So now their special pet is gone. It's not my fault. I don't know what happened. He's gone. I never liked him. They say he was good, but they said that to everyone when the first kid had left too. They yell too much.
I like writing. They don't like my writing. I like it. They don't. Why?
I don't know why I like it.
They hate it. They use hate and evil a lot. Words that I don't like to write.
I don't know why. I don't care much.
YOU ARE READING
Aligned
RandomWe write on little pieces of paper to save who we are. A/N: I have no intention of ever finishing this or even making it understandable. This is my playground of sorts.
