What am I? Attention whore who expects too damn much from everything, who dreams what good things, beautiful things may happen ahead on the road, who is trapped in his own dream, who is in fact 99.99% of the time just a block in way of somebody else to be kicked and dumped, who thinks he's done something good and expects a good result, but in the end, it's totally the opposite, not wanted at all... and so much more.
Why have I become like this? I wish to know. I probably shouldn't care anymore. In the end, everything just passes by me and I pass by them. In the end, I'm nothing but a tool, a toy to be thrown away after its abilities have all been used up. Guess the best thing to do is just leave everything behind and forget about it all...
I don't even know why I'm writing this, but whatever.
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A Broken Journal
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