This diary belongs to: A little blonde brat.

~*♪Day Eight♪*~

Dear diary,

I feel as if I'm drowning, I'm drowning in my own mind. I have no air, nor hands to reach below the cold water and save me. I am going to run out of air, then everything is going to go black. Oh how I despise the darkness. Disgusting hands will grab you from behind, but you cannot save yourself. It envelops me, unfathomable darkness it's suffocating and I am frozen stiff, unable to move or run.

No matter how loud I scream, no matter how many tears I shed, no one will save me. I'm shaking, I'm afraid. I'm afraid Claude. It won't stop, it won't leave me alone. I put on a mask everyday, to hide the pain you just smile right? Who would care about me in the end? I'd never want to bother anyone with my problems, for if I did, they'd look at me as if I a were lost, hopeless...weak.

People tell me in person, I am cheerful and full of energy. Yes I am, but then...how much of that is fake? My mask might wear down after some time and begin to crack and crumble. What then, shall I do?

I want to die.

I want to leave.

When will the door open for me? Would I have to make my own door?

I'm exhausted, finished. I simply cannot bare it for much longer.
No amount of pity will help me any longer. The pain is too much to bear, I've gone numb.

Maybe I'll try my best to mend the mask.

Butterflies never had long lives to begin with, I'm lucky to get this far.

-Alois☆〜