I’m an individual. I’m a great person. I’m a do-gooder, a person worth something. I’m…I’m…I’m….

I’m everything they tell me to be and I’m everything they tell me I’m not.

They tell me everything. No. Not just those… people, excuses for people in their little electronic box-worlds, only in that loath-worthy position for the cash they need to survive. The people I see everyday are included in the they. The mother that tells me I’m fantastic, worth so much more than what I do. The grandmother that praises me for my work. The teachers that award me high grades for the information I puke out as well as I do breakfast and dinner. They all…say…I’m worth something. Before…they even…know.

I can prove they don’t know. I can, don’t dare tell me I can’t, or I’m mistaken. Do they know that all the food I eat returns to the world faster than it should? Do they know that I have a pocketknife I’m dying to use on my pets? Do they know that for every good grade, there’s an hour of self loathing involved in it, when I condemn myself for my lack of concentration skills, my inability to memorize, the constant problems echoing in my head that I don’t address?

If they did I wouldn’t have this computer. I’d be in some sort of padded cell, or a therapist’s office.

It feels horrible, frightening, maddening to be lied to your whole life. From smiling faces; what is this? From those faces you are told to trust, but I have no reason to.

If you shake your head at that (and I.e., those faces are your parents) listen to me! The equivalent of this…monstrosity of social organization is being told to believe that two people will do the best for you, yet those people you do not know, you have never known before you began to become acqueinted to this world. For a time, their names are faint blurs in your young mind.

So let’s sum this up, shall we? I’ve tried to put the point across that your mothers and your fathers, your parental figures, your whatever’s, don’t deserve the trust that they think they should. The reason is that they expect the trust to come ffromr baby years, the ones where you are blind to the world. My point is that love doesn’t really exist. A love can exist between two generalized souls, but in an early stage of life, such as that of a baby and a young mother, love cannot exist between two people. Do you understand? Do…you understand?