People take advantage of me. I let them, unknowingly.
I wish I could be born again, a different person.
Each new feeling I have is repulsive, poisonous, dark. I switch thoughts quickly, like a desert snake that doesn’t let its body rest on the sand for too long, because it will burn the skin.
That’s why I’m changing paragraphs so much, hoping the white space below will let me write something better, stronger than this paragraph.
It doesn’t work.
Give me peace, whoever can.