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In my mind, however, it's another thing entirely. I started this journaling journey to remember things for the memoir I intend to write before the end of my life. Instead, what it has become is an outlet for my innermost thoughts--the things I cannot vocalize for fear of being committed to the insane asylum.
Certainly, my mind is a very dark place. I get myself absorbed in work so that I do not have to face this real world, because I don't feel like I belong in it. For I am an imposter. Some subspecies of humanity, forever destined to be sad and cast aside. So, instead, I spend my life caring for others. My hope is that, by stopping the bleeding of others, perhaps my own will stop.
Maybe, this journal will provide some type of catharsis. One can dream, right?
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