I'm talking to myself, only myself. I'm unaffected by my own words. They come and go, meanwhile I think to myself - who is this idiot talking? What is she trying to say? I'm learning to speak, just like a child, who's repeating the sounds surrounding him, just like a chick trying to flop it's fluffy wings. But I'm not succeeding. It's not working. These sounds coming out of me, these sounds aren't me. These sounds, these words aren't my real thoughts, merely copies of my thoughts. Copies of those copies. Not even that. It's the echo of what's really happening inside me, my head, my body, inside of who I really am. All that comes out, like an echo, is warped, reshaped by surroundings. It's like we're communicating through a broken phone, and you're receiving only half of what I've said. The visions in my head aren't connected to this world, I can't find a way to express what's inside me. I wish I had a projector in my forehead, so we could turn off the light and observe my dreams and fears and visions moving on the wall. Like a silent movie, that no one understands. I keep on trying to match my thoughts with my words, but they come out misshaped. I close my eyes. No point explaining. I shut myself. Off. I often think, what an unfair world it is that we live in. We are so limited, we are in chains. We're afraid of our own bodies, scared to get hurt, we're ashamed of our lust, we are put into these boxes, labelled, like - religion, society, norms, expectations, limits. Afraid to be individuals, exceptional, different. We are chopped up like fresh pieces of meat, and then displayed on the counter, we are used just when we are useful, other parts, that no one needs, are thrown away. They don't fit the standards, you see. No one wants those weird looking parts. They won't sell, you see. Fuck those parts. 

Well you know what, don't fucking buy me, feed me to the dogs.