Strawberrydrink, and many others, think I'm seeking attention. The truth is that I like to type, and I've become addicted to the computer.
I'd write, but it's still awful. Since words have lost their meaning ("A Bedtime Story"), my writing is substandard.
It's grim, along with my fate.
I press onwards, like Don Quixote. My days are filled with reading and writing and illusions.
Few people know me, but they hate me. I think I scare them. They're usually the ones who think I'm an attention whore.
If you don't like it, don't read me. If you think I'm an attention whore, don't feed me.
I'm not saying it isn't nice to get a little traffic every once in a while, vain human that I am, but no, I type even if no one is looking. I dance while no one is watching.
It's kind of sad. It reminds me of Breaking Benjamin's "Evil Angel." That is so mean. Not only is he quoting voices and pretending to be some sort of thing to fight, but he's hating on my imaginary world. They truly want everything good from someone.
It's almost as annoying as Putin's vanity, arrogance and ignorance.
My grandma has always said that I'm like the chicken the other ones pick on. It's true. Life has not been kind.
We all have to make our way through this life though. Most people have hardships. It's a never ending battle for all of us.
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