Dear Journal:

Crawling in my skin. That wound that will not heal. Fear is how he'll fall. Confusing the real world for what he thinks is real.

Goth. Desperate. Black. Words that a little boy will never comprehend. Is he really being himself or is he the influence of his environment.

Come now child, come with thee. I will show thy error in thy why. It's a great satisfaction knowing that for a brief point in time you made a difference.

Yes dear child, this is reality. When you kill people they die! When you cut someone they bleed! Real blood. Not like in the movies. They die and they never come back.

Do not rejoice at my grief, for when mine is old, yours will be new. Oh and by the way, every ass loves to hear himself bray.