I'm not okay, and I never have been. I'm the biggest liar the world has ever known. I've always been alone; I have no sister, no mother to listen to me, no friend, no one.
But I know everyone.
I made everything I wanted on my own, I tried on my own, I never heard a word from anyone, and I never saw help from anyone, so I never learned to ask for help and I kept carrying everything on my own, suffering on my own.
And help my broken hand with my other hand.
I have never found anyone to tell about what is going on in my head, nor about my opinion on music, religion, or even Freemasonry. It is a life of utter loneliness, utter silence, utter responsibility, and nothing is worthwhile anymore; I have grown accustomed to the pain.
Why do I write in English? Perhaps so that my words don't reveal my weakness.
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August 14, 2026 281
