Well.

There's not much to tell.

Not much in this dismal life.

That I've tried to give meaning with shallow, superficial things.

Money.

Clothes.

Jewels.

They all mean nothing.

So I write.

Write to tell my story.

Write to let some of my suffering out.

They've tried to silence me.

Insisiting that I have enough in my life; so I sould be happy.

Right?

There's something missing.

And there is no worse feeling,

than not knowing what it is.

-Alsana