There are 365 days in a year. There are only 365 days in a year. There will only ever be 365 days in a year. Every time I try to rephrase a sentence it gets progressively more severe; how do I sound less eccentric, how do I tell people what I mean without rambling? I believe that if I get my point across it doesn’t matter in what time frame, if it takes me a year and a half to tell you about the time my dog ran across the road and almost got hit by a car, then it does. No matter how I think about how I’m going to say something, it always comes out differently, I ramble and mutter and change my mind too often to hold a conversation. I suppose now would be a good time to explain that I don’t usually talk to people, I type, it’s all I've ever been able to do, to show people everything …show more content…
I know it’s not possible, but it feels like I’m being watched, why did I stay up? I should have slept this off, this is not where I want to be. I need to get away from this, but how ham I am going to sleep when I can feel them staring, seeing as I see, why won't they leave. Time is beginning to pass quicker, the madness is creeping in, I can’t be that way, I can’t be the people who I’m not sorry for. I need to finish more, I need to show that Void and that I won’t be used. I type like I’ve never typed before, fingers flying, the rhythmical tip tap of the keys keeps me grounded, I can’t remember what I’m writing, but I know there was a purpose. I have to keep typing, if I stop, they’ll find me, I need to finish my work before they see. Why do they stare, why can’t I live my life in peace? Why won’t they stop, what did I do? I need an escape, I need to run, but I can’t because I know they’ll see and tell, they’ll always find me. I can never escape, the world is my prison, and my only escape is the tip tap of the