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Dear die-ary,
I've been to heaven and hell... And I still don't know if there is a God or a devil. Still... It's something to write about.

Dear, diary
I seem to be dead.

Dear diary,
I know better than to simply assume a complete justification for my actions, but... What a week. What a great ****** week.

Dear diary,
Is it possible that I am the center point of all existence. That I am the only stitch left in the fabric of reality? Experiences have planted the seed of this thought into my mind recently.

Dear die-ary,
I stared, motionless, before the mirror. As always, I stayed until I'm convinced that there is no glass, nothing, separating me from the room I see on the other side. I imagine that everything is different. Over there. Better. There are people, in that world, who I would like. But, like always, my hand hits that glass. I know that if I'd only waited just one more second... ****. I'm gonna go kill a party clown.

Dear die-ary,
Today I learned that on the inside I'm pretty ****** ugly.