A Short Rant

Everyone is afraid. Afraid or disturbed. And yet I am still here. Whether I remain alone or not does not matter. I am imperfect. I have opened the floodgates to my brain and now the world sees me for the plague I really am. Unrefined, twisted in unbridled rage. I don't know how to be alone. It frightens me, but I am forced into the abyss. No love, no hate, no pain, no comfort. Just abysmal solitude. I wish people weren't afraid of me. I wish I wasn't so afraid of them. I need more than this. I have kept myself company for nearly 24 years, I should be used to it. I suppose you can indeed miss what you've never had. Friends are hard to come by. Especially when you are not like the rest.