i love that i can type to my hearts content, and while others have the opportunity to read the story that is my life, they decide to engage in other, more entertaining activities. im tired of the lies that have surrounded my life. that i must pretend to be something i am not in order to survive. to alter my very nature from what i was raised to in order to live in this world. i am so distraught at the fact that i do not think i will survive, that my lack of friends, family, even people that talk to me period are so rare... i am an outcast, and will never change, it seems, but i will enjoy the conversations that i have with myself on the electronic journal. i miss the woods, the north, the freedom of hunting for my meal, and the joy of not having to deal with the rest of this race. i remember the life that preceded this one, the life i lived until i was shoved out into this world, forced to live on my own, and currently it seems that i will only be tourtured with the memories that i cary of surviving the wilds, relying upon my skills, and living with the family that has been taken from me. but it is good that i can get these things out, i suppose, even if there is no one listening.
