Love is a strange thing.
It makes you do stupid things; unspeakable things.
Worst of all, it gives you hope.
Or more accurately, false hope.
For nineteen years, I sat alone in my room, thinking I was loved.
Maybe what caused the delusion is my success; all the trophies I achieved, all the certificates I received.
But definitely not the diseases.
Definitely not the flaws.
Have you ever sat down and thought what was going on in my mind?
Sure, you'd say you knew everything what's going in my head but do you really?
Do you know how many times I've stabbed myself in the throat in my mind?
Do you know how many times I've tied a noose around my neck?
Do you know how many times I've strangled each and every one of you to death?
No, I don't want to **** you.
I don't want to hate you.
I just want to be loved. I just want to be loved for who I am.
I just want to feel at home at home.
I just want to feel safe.
Being at home is like walking through a haunted mansion with trap doors.
You don't know when you'll trigger a trap that'll shoot tiny darts right into your heart.
As a child, I always wanted to be a superhero; I'd pretend that my life is an origin story of a superhero.
But as it turns out, it's the story of how a hopeful boy turned into a madman who tried to burn the world down.
Yes, I'm a freak, I know that pretty **** well and I don't need you to remind me that.
Do you know how hard it is to just walk straight in public thinking everyone is staring at you?
I just want a sanctuary where I dont have to worry about what people might think of me.
If home is really where the heart is,
Then I dont really have a home.