9:25 p.m. I am empty. Vacant. Drained out. Hollow. Something is missing from my day. I cant lay still in bed. I feel like I am wasting away as the picture of Clara by my bed. In a dark room she curls up, in the pure fluffy cloud of a bed, with dark eyes glowing, hair lay dead and neglected. Boredom kills her. I connect with the picture. She is a figment of a friend I never once had.
Cupid's brother has shot me with an arrow witholding outrage and suffering.I am alone People are always around. As much as they are there, the are not there. My soul dwells alone. I never connect. I never look at a person and know them. I did once. Maybe more. But I knew a young soul once, who knew little of my soul, but little was more than none. With this soul, dead silence said much. It did not frighten me the way it always does.
This soul now connects elswhere. My soul misses that soul greatly.
A great man once said, "I never met a man I didn't like." I can relate. My soul is made to love. The world will not allow it. I hate everyone. They have left me alone. I am a loved girl. But, what of me that is loved, I wont claim. No one knows me. I wish they did. But I fear them knowing what I know. The vision are powerful. The things I see. The hopelessness I contain. It's overpowering. Undescribable. The terrified little girl I am inside of this gawky, limiting body. I know things far beyond my years. I've seen things grown adults shouldn't see. God gave me a gift. I know. Not the useless facts every genius would know. I know. I know. God blessed me, and I see amazing things.
God gave me deepth. This doesn't even scrath the surface.