Dear Reader,

You don't know what you're talking about anymore do you? Your babbling is becoming worthless, and your sense to find something is lost because you don't know what you are searching for. Your attachments have somehow wrapped themselves around you, and they are like vines holding you back down, strangling you and unmercifully, won't finish you off.

You need to have a clear head. Stop talking about them. You hardly know who them is do you? Just stop it. It's not depressing at this point, it's just pathetic now.

Yours Truly,

Me.

Dear Reader,

Someone's been scratching my glass cage. They've left me traces of clues to not who they are but where they are. Each drawing is beautiful and unique and sometimes none of them make sense as they are somewhat shapeless and unfinished and as impossible as this sounds, they are arranged in layers. A drawing over another, over another. Sometimes I think I could feel the messages left behind, as if they were designed for my very fingers. And at times I can hear it in my sleep that my heart bruises from the piercing through my ears.

The glass isn't breaking. I am.

I am trying to be strong and brave and I am trying to fight but I've let one second convince me who I am.

I'll stop trying to make myself sound special... I'm lost. I don't know where to go. I'm crushing myself into the ground. Nothing's working for me and maybe it's cause I do feel alone. I do feel afraid of what I might find once the curtain falls. I don't care if someone else understands or know what I feel like because they don't. They can't, they are not me and my emotions cannot be measured of compared to theirs. I am idiotic. I am stupid. I am letting my guard down. Stop trusting. I have to stop trusting, I have to start growing up and quit pretending. I will not hurt and I don't care if I need it. My mind is stronger then my emotions. I am stronger then my emotions. I am stronger then you...

Cold. Harsh. Cruel. Why not? Why bloody not? I raised myself that way. I tried to be that way until the emotions came.

My words aren't enough. I need someone else to tell me that I'm an idiot.

Yours Truly,

Nayt.

Dear Reader,

What is it like to wake up and the first thing you see is yourself asleep? What is it like to look at yourself and wonder what you're dreaming? What is it like to see you awake and know it's not you?

I remember when I was more ignorant and stupid in this world. I remember when I tried to convince the world and myself that everyone's happiness was my best interest. The world is hating me and I don't know why. The world is hating me and I don't understand. The world bloody refuses to crumble around me because it likes to see me like this. It is enjoying every second, every breath and rain drop. What am I to it? Not a toy. Not a toy. Something more. Something less. I wonder what I would do if someone took my fingers away. I wonder what I would do if someone took my voice away. I wonder what I would do if I could no longer find a way to express myself. Why is everyone taking a piece of me away? Why are they burying those pieces deeper into my soul? Making me lost in searching myself. Lost in being myself. Sometimes it feels like they're just carving things on me. Sick. That's just sick and hateful. Taking pieces. Why would they want to do that? Take it all. Take it all. Can you handle it? You might, but I don't think you can. I am more than hate. More then emotion. I am more then this but you took that away from me. Everything that I wanted to believe in. You took it away. Crushed my dreams when they hardly grew. Crushed my hope and my belief, only because you - you don't believe in it. It's real. It's real, but that never stopped you in twisting me around. You twisted me around. You pulled me apart and you did something else and I could forgive you. I could always forgive you.

Funny thing is... You don't even know what you did to me. You don't recall. Course not. You never knew, you never noticed because you never really cared. Only cared how people viewed you. You knew they talked about you, just didn't want to know what they said. You don't need to know. Never wanted to know. I didn't need someone to blame but I choose you to blame. It's your fault. You're to blame and it doesn't matter if it's not but you did something. You always do something. I am stupid because of you. I am just a bloody shell because of you. What am I waiting for? What am I trying, fighting for? You took away the only thing I knew. You made me look at myself. You made me see through me. You made me run. You made me run but you couldn't see it because you never noticed. I wasn't there. You didn't notice. Who am I suppose to hate now? I have no one to hate. No one and I don't even hate you because it's ridiculous to. It's stupid. I have no emotions for you and that makes it harder because I don't know why I am talking to you.

Some people see the glass as half empty or half full, but to me it's broken. And if there was water in the glass, with broken pieces, it wouldn't matter, because I would drink it. Thirsty or not, I'd still drink it because somehow... The water looks sweet. The glass... They'd be sparkling bits to me. That's all. Beautiful sparkles and of course... They wouldn't do anything to me or for me. I'd still feel the same. I'd still be here. I'm here and I'm okay with that. I'm here and I'm okay. I don't need to believe in the words they say. I'm always losing on the inside but I'm winning on the outside, to them. Or maybe it's the other way round. I'm not needed. I'm not suppose to be here. Yet that doesn't matter. I don't want to hear the voices in my head. I don't want to listen to what they have to say. Don't tell me what's right because you took away what I had. You took away my imagination. You took that away, how can I ever trust you? I have no emotions for you, because I don't know you anymore.

Yours Truly,

Me.

Dear Reader,

No one knows. No one's suppose to know. No one needs to know that's why. Know what though? I'm talking trash again. I'm losing something. I'm not sure what. I'm thinking it's my imagination. Maybe I've used it all up. That's just sad. Sad. Sad. Sad.

I'll over come what ever is happening to me. I'll get over it, but the problem is, I don't know what it is I'm suppose to overcome. Words are limiting me. I need something to do. No, no. That won't work. How could I say that when I can hardly express myself with words? I should expand my vocabulary. Not now though. Too busy, too busy.

Let us pretend... And imagine I'm still in my chains. When I got out of them, I'm not sure. And they're stretched to their limits. They will never break. They are bent and not broken, but then suddenly one day, they fall open. What do I do now? Enjoy that new freedom? Yes - but I can't. Those chains... Overcoming them, breaking them, getting out of them was the only thing I knew I was meant to do. The only thing I knew that I was suppose to try and do. Now what though? I've done it... At least I think I have... Unless those chains have somehow sunk in and... Are shut tight around my bones. Maybe I'm still chained but in a different way. I don't know what I'm suppose to do now. I've been talking trash.

I don't know why I don't talk to someone. Talking could cure me so easily, but it never takes it away. You know how you feel better, but it's not real. That better feeling it's so artificial that sometimes, well it's fact - Only you could make yourself feel better, it's just... Who does it makes that 'better' feeling... Nicer I guess. Why is everything moving so fast? I can hardly catch my breath.

I have a feeling that I sound rather stupid right now. Should I worry about that? Perhaps, not now though. I wonder what I want from myself. I know what others expect of me, but I wonder how much am I expecting from myself. I'm working my mind too hard I guess. I feel like, I have something more to me but I've never thought about maybe I'm just ordinary.

Maybe if I try harder... But what if this is the best that I can do? Maybe this is the best that I can do and I've not achieved anything. I'm not any better then I was when I was a child was I? I'm still a child. I'm still a child. I don't know what I've just said. I'm not growing up any better. I won't be able to do better.

I can't believe a word that I say. I don't take myself seriously really. It just sounds good but I don't think I've truly agreed with the things I say. So what if it's good advice? Even if I don't believe it to be correct... Doesn't mean I can't learn from them right? I sound ridiculous now. I wish I could laugh but I don't want to crack the silence.

Yours Truly,

Nayt.

Dear Reader,

Trapped? No. Lost? Not. Gone? Perhaps. Nonexistent? ...

Things aren't going to fit anymore, are they? My ivory statue is cracking. And no matter what I do, the ugliness is beginning to show. I can't hide it anymore. Things use to be beautiful and when they weren't, it was easy to hide it, easy to turn away or erase them... But they keeping coming back. They keep on coming back. I am getting weaker and I don't know why. My mind, it's not... It's been torn. And I don't want to know if anyone else has felt the same. I don't want to hear that I'm not alone. I don't want to be told things are going to be alright in the end. Why should they be? Why would they be? What right do I have to have things become beautiful once more... Or better? I don't want anyone to understand what I'm feeling or think that they do. I don't want anyone to feel the same way as I do, I don't want anyone to fall in the same hole, I don't want anyone to know what it's like to be alright like this. To think this world is okay, that it's fine, that it was meat to be colourful and sweet and delightful when it's really not... When it can easily be turned into black and white... And shades of grey don't even exist. I'm not in pain. I'm not breaking down. I'm just falling and I don't know why. I'm losing part of myself... Or I've found a new part of myself that I've never seen before and it's ugly but beautiful at the same time. It's special but I don't know how it got there.

Dear Reader,

Who catches you when you fall? Do you have someone in mind? Who catches me when I fall? No. I just hold on to whatever I could. I'm falling. Falling into what, I'm not sure. I think it's a well or maybe it's a hole. Maybe it's neither or it could be a tube. I'm falling still. I'm not sure whether the hole is just, very deep or whether I'm just falling down slowly. Everything seems so still at the same time. Maybe I'm not falling. Maybe I'm just floating. Floating. I'm always somewhere in between but never grounded. Never truly happy, never truly sad. Or at least I believe it to be so. Everyone's changing aren't they? Change is good. I guess. I wonder how deep is this hole I'm in. Did I fall in? Trip or was pushed in? Who caught me when I fell the last time? I don't remember. I think I pulled myself out... Or I fell out of the hole. I wonder if I survived the fall the last time.

I think someone tried to catch me the last time; but then I slipped out of their fingers. Or maybe they let go of me... Accidentally perhaps, but it didn't change the fact that I was still falling. I did wanted someone to catch me... But no one really saw me falling. I don't know what's happening.

I have another identity. And I have to keep it a secret. I don't have to explain. It's just for me.

Yours Truly,

Me.

Dear Reader,

I've been trying to write about something, but answers or what seems acceptable just happens to fly by so quickly. And I accept them. I'm learning to accept. Appreciate the situations or the solutions? Perhaps not. Right now, it's something like... If something's there. It's there. That's all to it. I've stopped questioning. I'm fine with that, but now it feels like there's something missing because I can't say I'm that curious about life anymore. And if I can't say that, I no longer have an excuse for tomorrow. Of course I really do have an excuse for tomorrow, but I don't have that one selfish excuse for myself. So now it's different. I feel a different kind of empty. The strangest thing though is that this emptiness is so alive. It's there. It really is there and it's faster then my heart beat and it's bigger then me.

I've always thought that I was trapped in a glass cage. But now when I stop to think about it; it's not there. I have everything in a sense. Not everything I've wanted but I got more then most people. Maybe I'm imagining too hard and maybe nothing's really stopping me from what I want. But what is it that I want? I have a sense. I have an idea. A picture... Even a whole movie and a little trailer for it too. I'm trapped and yet I'm not. I'm afraid to show a certain side of me. I admit because I'm scared of getting hurt and rejection, though part of me somehow know that, that's not true. I am afraid of taking risks. I hate admitting that.

My wings were never torn. They were never there. I've tried didn't I? I've looked outside to the sky. It's been extremely beautiful lately but I don't know what I would do with it. I would waste it though, wouldn't I?

I didn't have to look when I woke up. I never do. It was always the same. The feeling. The hurt. But there was no hurt today. It wasn't there. It was a different kind of feeling. Almost sweet, but regretful. Always regretful. I don't understand. When did the loneliness started to feel good? When did the emptiness just not matter anymore? Yet the same thing was echoed in my head. That I always understand. I do to some point, don't I? Sometimes I wish I didn't. Sort of anyway... I always seem to think back to the past though. Thinking bout what I would've felt if the situation happened back then. I think I miss some of those emotions. I didn't know much then though, not that I do now. It's just now... now feels safe. Yet, now, it feels wrong at the same time. I just feel like I'm not really there anymore and right now, I'm wondering who am I talking to? I don't know you, reader. And even if I have a slight idea, it'd still be wrong wouldn't it? I have no one to run to. I mean, I know who I could run to but I can't run to them. It's wrong to do so in a way. Someone out there understands what I'm feeling right? I'm not real sure if I want to meet them.

My words don't seem creative to me anymore. My ideas seem plain and boring. There's nothing special bout my imagination anymore. I could never create anyway. I was never good, nor better, or worst either, just okay. I'm always okay and I'm fine with that really... It's just... I wish I didn't see myself that way I guess.

Some story with a strange ending.

Confuse? No, don't think about it.

It was never there.

Yours Truly,

Nayt.

Dear Reader,

I don't have any answers. I know that. I've tried to be truthful and to absorb and make sense of everything that's happening, but it doesn't work. I can't care anymore with being who I am. I am always wrong and perhaps weak in some ways. There are even times where I wish to make deals with fate to turn this world I know around.

What do I do when I have ran out of reasons? Or answers, or explanations to why things are the way they are. My faith is not shaken, nor is it disturbed but my mind yearns to cry out and demands for knowledge on what comes next. How could this happen, why did you let this happen? God always has his reasons, I tell myself. His reasons are the better, they may not seem right but they are the better. But now better does not seem enough to some and I wish I could just come up with an explanation and some sort of courage to let this all settle. I'm trying so hard not to cry right now and I am scared that if I was to cry in my sleep, I would awake blind the next day. Why is this happening. I don't even know if I am asking the right questions.

I've failed. I've failed in what I was suppose to do. I can't say there's still hope. I feel like there is none but I need some sort of signal to show me there is. I do not know if I feel weak or strong in spirit, I don't even know if I feel anything at all. I am trying so hard not to be cold and cruel. I am trying so hard to be calm. I'm not being pulled down, but I'm not exactly moving up either. I am still bloody floating in the air. Those bloody chains that I can't break can no longer stretch.

How do I explain things that I don't know about? How do I explain something without hurting myself too much... How do I explain something that people don't want to hear? I got no words left. I got no bloody words left to say.

It's my fault though. I started it. I started it. But it's not my fault really is it? Please tell me it isn't. No one's there though. No one. I tried to catch people as much as I could every time they fall... No one knows who catches me though. I thought it was me but I'm too busy trying to catch everyone else.

No human cares for my pleas though. They can't be heard. It can't be traced. I'm bound to do something stupid tomorrow now. I got no words left. No words but I'm going to keep on trying. I didn't try hard enough maybe. I should be left alone. I should rot... I remember a time when I believed no one in the world would stand up for me. I still believe it now. It's true. They. People try to be realistic by making me realistic about my dreams. A bunch of... Things that can't really happen. I was beaten down so many times that I didn't even try to acknowledge those moments. I felt nothing, like I should. I did. Now look at me. There's nothing there and not even hope can pull off the stunts that use to seem so wonderful to life. Spin. Spin. Spin. That's what's happening, except the world's going in the wrong way. What do I do now? I'm useless. I really am. People need me though except I believe I'm useless. Someone should fix that. Except no one's there. I tried. I did... no not really. It wasn't really enough for you.

Words, words. I don't know much words...

Yours sincerely,

Me.

Dear Reader,

I think my thoughts have been selfish lately. I know there must be moments when one has to only think of one's self, benefit, demise and all, but right now whatever thoughts to better or worsen me do not seem to connect. I have been day-dreaming too much. It's nice though. Something different.

I think, when I run out of questions to ask about the world, I begin to ask questions about myself. I've came up with this new idea that contradictions only exist when we can't find a way to put something into words. Have I mentioned that before? I may have...

Right now I'm trying to get... Something to meet. Something to connect and hopefully make sense. I'm getting sick with things that are ugly are made beautiful in a queer way. Like when one does something wrong in order to do right, or when how some of the wonderful things in the world are the things that don't make sense. It's not right. It doesn't fit. Perhaps there is an explanation to everything, but we've never bothered to find out what it is. I don't know what I'm really complaining about. It's like I'm bothered with things that I really aren't with.

What am I waiting for I wonder... A change? Perhaps... A new kind of emotion?

It would be nice to have something different walk by. An opportunity that shakes you to your very core. Something that'll make you feel really, really human for once in a positive way. Or maybe something that'll take that feeling away from your hands, mess around with your senses. Just... Not be lost but be found for the first time. It'd be nice for something new to push the curtains away.

But I'm not very fond of change.

Yours Truly,

Nayt.