Damn it I hate being alone. I have some people to go to, but they don't change the fact that I'm alone in a dark room surrounded by plastic. Why plastic? Because I tried to fill my loneliness with stuff. Needless to say, it didn't work. I couldn't talk to it, relate to it, or love it. I needed a person. Someone who understood me and accepted me. Most see as a happy person, but deep inside I am not. And I did find this person, but he left too quickly. Sometimes the plastic things amuse me, but only temporarily. And sometimes I am not lonely, but it always comes back.
