Chapter Text
Dear Diary
I have lied a lot. I lied to people so frequently that I began to believe it. I make up a dream world in my imagination to comfort myself because my life is so miserable and dreary. There are no feelings of melancholy, rage, stress, or depression in my make-believe world. I built up a happy place, and it's there. When my friends inquire about how my day went, I lie to them. Instead of telling them what actually happened, I describe what occurred in my own universe. If only they knew the real me under all of my sunny and cheery exterior. They wouldn't ever want to see my face again, I'm sure. I've lied to them so many times.
I lie so frequently that I'm losing my mind. What is genuine and what is make-believe is no longer something I can keep track of. It's chaos in my head. I simply want to be content. I desire to be a typical guy. I sincerely desire happiness. I had to come out of my fantasy world. I want to return to reality, but I don't want to return to this reality. I'm confined. No matter what I do, I'll always tell a lie and claim to be fine when I'm not.
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-P.SH
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