My life is nothing but a disaster. Bottled up words that fill up inside me and I have no way of letting them out, but to write them. Living an life as an Empath is no easy task, its more of a curse then a blessing. A "gift" of Empathy, yeah.. right. How ironic. I can't even think of how to begin putting all my thoughts together...

I don't talk to anyone. I don't have a writing style. I don't have expectations. Whatever comes to my mind is usually stored there, but now it all comes out into plain view.

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