I don't know why I walk on the lonely side of the street. I'm not consciously choosing to cross out of the sun. When I find myself on a desolate corner I feel a strange sense of peace underneath the initial panic.
When I am near people I feel suffocated. Actions seem exaggerated. Time passes painfully slow. I'm overly aware of everything. Its torture.
When I'm alone I can breathe. You know, like I notice things but I don't care about them. And I don't want to care about anything.
I want to resist and rebel and regret.
My lack of participation in the human race, a race I don't want to run, is constant. I don't see myself as a part of it. I'm on the outside. On the outside looking in.
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