There I was, in the middle of the room with faceless bodies all around me chattering away with their mindless conversations. I felt so alone yet at peace. "I don't belong here," one thought said, "Oh shut up," said another one. There is always a battle within me about what is right and what is normal and what I need to do. How do I even know that is me talking. How I wish I was able to communicate my needs and thoughts but how can I do that when I can't even make sense of them. Sometimes I wish people could read my mind so that I wouldn't have to worry so much about how I come across. But then I think about how people would find out what a terrible person I am. Obviously, I know I am not an actual bad person in the terms of murder, tourue, etc. But I know I am selfish, a lair, and so many other things I tell my self I am.