I was born with a personality disorder.
My school, my parents, my siblings, the world.
They all looked at me strangely.
They thought I was a monster.
I hated them, I hated the world. No, I hated my life.
I thought I had friends, I thought I would hang out with them, play with them.
No. They hated me.
They were scared of me.
Someone grabbed me.
Who was it? I don't know.
My 'friends' looked scared.
They ran away.
They, ran away.
They. Ran. Away.
I'm scared.
It hurts.
It's red.
It's so red.
It's dark.
So dark.
I want my mother, my father.
No, you don't.
They hate you.
No one loves you.
They are scared of you.
But why is she smiling at me?
That's and evil smile.
Why is she laughing happily?
She wants to kill you.
Get away from her.
She is nice.
I like her.
No you don't.
There are more.
Three more.
Two children and a man.
They look happy seeing me.
Who are they?
You don't know them.
But they look so kind.
I'm happy.
Wait, what is this? Why are my hands so small?
Where is this place?
Why is it so run down?
Oh well, it's cozy here.
I feel sleepy.
I fell asleep.