I don't know why I get like this so late at night. Every night. Without fail. It's as if all the thoughts that I refuse to acknowledge during the day come out at night; and I don't have the energy to hide them anymore.
I don't know why I'm like this. I don't know why I have to be this way. But I absolutely despise it. And yet. And yet it is who I am.
Sleep. Now. Sleep. Now.
I want to be alone. Alone. In a small house. With a garden. And a neat kitchen. With bright colors. And a big bed. And a stereo that plays good music that fits my mood all the time. And a sun that shines so bright. And a tree that grows so tall. And children laughing in the distance. Telling me that it will be okay. In that way that children do.
I don't know why I'm like this. I don't know why I have to be this way. But I absolutely despise it. And yet. And yet it is who I am.
Sleep. Now. Sleep. Now.
I want to be alone. Alone. In a small house. With a garden. And a neat kitchen. With bright colors. And a big bed. And a stereo that plays good music that fits my mood all the time. And a sun that shines so bright. And a tree that grows so tall. And children laughing in the distance. Telling me that it will be okay. In that way that children do.
I want. Want. Want.
Selfish girl.
"You can hold her eggs; but your basket has a hole."
You can't fix a hole unless you know it's there. And who's going to tell you? Not me. Not me.
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