What makes me special? Am I special?
What was it that people saw in me that made them want to be friends with me and where has it gone?
What was it that Suzanne saw in me that made her go out with me and what happen to it that made her leave?
What was it that made me me and where is it at now?
Or is this it? Is this what I am to be from now on. Is this what my life is, to struggle to get out of bed and rush out to my job where I am mostly sheltered from the outside world and then rush back to my room at the end of the day and hide myself away until the morning?
Why can’t I let go of this pain that I have? Is this the only reason that I’m living for; to hold on to this pain and guilt, letting it tourture and punish me every day. Why can’t I let go of it, either by healthy or unhealthy means?
What an incompotent and impotent person I’ve become.
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horangee
A 50-something pretending to live in California.
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