Lately, I feel like crawling out of my own skin. I’m so exhausted of the same faces and set of scenery I see everyday. I feel like my suffering is an ever-growing cycle, like I’m being set up for a tragic ending. I was made for you. Just for you, so you can use me as an experiment; how much can one person tolerate? When you see me like this, isn’t it clear that I can’t tolerate anymore? Sometimes I just feel like it’s my time. When it’s my time, it’s also yours. When I die, you die with me. What will you do once I’m gone and you have nothing to play with anymore? Will you see what you have done?
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