She yelled at me again. She doesn’t understand my condition and probably never will…I can imagine her, laughing at me, right after my confession about the disorder…’No, silly, you are not sick, you are just a lazy girl, trying to excuse herself for all the shit you should have done and you didn’t, for being an outcast at your own request. You are responsible for your life, you and only you’.

Well, mom, you don’t know me at all. And I don’t know myself anymore. Life is full of mysteries I do not want to know. I feel so empty.

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"I’m a million different things, and not one you know…"
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all the memories, all at once
prisoner of my own mind
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feed me with certainty