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Dear Die-ary,



How are you? I, myself, am not as good as I would hope. I have run into many a snag in the time since my last entry, many of which I am unsure as to list...except one. I believe I have found a new companion with which to stroll through the park that some call the darkening night. She has shown me she is very much like me, one who finds oneself at home in the lonesome dark cavern know as our lives.

Perhaps this is a test, set before me by some cruel deity meaning to cause me strife so they can see how far they can stretch my limits. I do not know. What I do know, is that times and moments like the ones I am being given each day that scamper by, I seem to lose a peice of my once complete soul; all I seem to possess now is a shattered window that once held out the cold. Now it is broken and the blizzard is streaming in through the hole.

I hope I can find solice against the torrent of wintry emotions that seem to be burying me to my neck like a mountain avalanche. Well, my dear, I must retire for the night. Good bye.



Nykl

Dear Die-ary,



I spent several hours today, attempting to think of a reason NOT to write this , but I feel...obligated to ask you this question of mine. Why do those who consider themselves the mainstream "normal" think of me and others like me as "fucking freaks" as they say to our faces?



They say things like the aforementioned name and other, more deeply harmful, things that no one, not even their "Almighty God", should say to another, despite appearance, despite lifestyle, despite their existence. Why are people like the sterotypical high school jock allowed to continue on with their pitiful excuse of a life when they tread on every other being like the ground they use to walk on? Do they not see people like me?



I have many a time contemplated rash actions that would wipe the smirk they wear as they stomp on my face, that would actually wipe their face off, truthfully. It's not so much a bubbling ball of pure hatred and anger that burns a large hole into my stomach, but more of a heavy weight, like a lead bearing, that sinks lower into my abdomen, beginning to rot and fester as each second passes.



Why, I ask you, must people like myself be subjected to treatment like we are lower than the hard-working ant and our tormentors the child with his magnifying glass? Why must we be the ones who bite the hand that feeds? Are we not the same beings as those who torment us, despite our differences in appearance and nature?



I resign myself from this quest to discover the answers to my questions, in search of something more pleasant and sweet in context. Until next our paths cross...adieu.



Nykl