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People tell me that I've changed a lot in the last couple years.

I neither know, nor care. I do know that THINGS have changed... circumstances, place, reasons.

But I refuse to believe that I am a different person.

All things considered, I know that I now do things differently, say things differently, and perhaps view the world differently (apparently love and hate are actually completely different... who knew?), but for the most part, I'm still the same me....

I hate that fact.

I wish I couldv'e done things a bit differently... Perhaps blended in with the crowd more often than I did. There were times when I was picked out of large crowds because I was just dressed different. Other times, I blended in perfectly.

I've done horrible things. Some accidents, some not. A few have ended with either me or another person being seriously injured. Once, somebody died. While it's not counted as murder, and no longer counted as manslaughter, these accusations run through my head all the time. I know it was my fault, and I'm sorry for that. It was an accident. I didn't mean to do it.

I have multiple scars. Some big, many small, all of which mean something to me. I will admit that some are self-inflicted. I accept the blame for that, but I don't regret it. Things happen for a reason, even if nothing is ever fated to happen.

After all... I have nothing more to lose.

January 2017

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