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Every time I’m looking on the sun I get an awkward feeling. I can’t stand it. I hate the sun more and more every time I see it. But the moon, I like the moon. And the dark, I like the dark. More things that i like is fear and blood, I like panic and death. I’m sick of the life, but I’m living anyway. Just to scare others and to show them the real world. It’s not that perfect that they think it is. Everything they think is scary and that they are afraid of, they don’t believe in. Like ghosts and dragons, fairies and unicorns. They don’t believe because they are afraid. But they do exist. Just like me. And I know because I have seen them in my dreams. I’m almost dead. A walking dead. But I’m still alive. I don’t know why, it’s just how it is. I have been shot and stabbed. I have tried to take my life. But I can’t. I can’t even feel pain anymore. The only thing I can feel is sadness. My heart is broken. My mind is broken. My world is broken. The only friends I have are the crows. But even they don’t talk to me. But it’s okay. I don’t really care. I don’t talk either. I don’t talk at all. Because if I don’t talk, I can’t say anything wrong. And because I have gotten used to not talk, I can’t talk even if I wanted to. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I wonder why. Why is my world so different? I can’t smile. I can’t laugh. I can’t even cry. What’s wrong with me? The thing that is wrong with me is that I know the truth. I’m the only One. All the others don’t understand.