Surprisingly little is happening. To me, that is. I should probably be very depressed, but I am not. I am not happy, by any means; I never am anymore. When you utterly hate life and all that it implies, you become immune to all these things, for better or for worse.

Is everyone gone? The general public, with their cacophony and prying eyes, their closed minds?

Okay, my friends, the truth:

I feel like I'm dying, internally. Fate is like a spider; the venom of it rots you from the inside out. I've kept years of this within me, and look how it has turned out! Bitter and hollow, a carapace formed around me, unable to accurately mirror either side.

I feel lonely, but I don't say it. I don't show it. I feel sad, but I don't say it. I don't show it. I hate my species and planet, and I do say. I do show it.

In summary, my mind is like a hellish prison as of... Years ago. But now to go to my locker is to visit all my nightmares incarcerated there.