can we really ever know who we are until its too late to change?there is a wound that does not seem to heal and it drives me to destruction the more i analyse it the more paralysed i become till all movement has ciesed, all drive gone. I am just waiting for something to happen i do not care what even death would be a welcome break or just a sample perhaps I could sleep in a coffin at night.oh no i have become what i was taught to revile all my life a wierdo creep with a death wish.
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