i don't know why, but it's not right. everything's cold and i'm alone. i hurt. if i write all of this in my livejournal, my friends will nag on me like last time. they're sort of my friends. i guess you could say they are my superficial pals. they don't really know me. they don't really care about anything other than the clothes i wear and if i can help them. i'm the silent one that listens to all the secrets. yes, and i'm the lucky freak. i'm the freak that will scare you. and i only hang with preps that act like ashlee simpson because i used to be just like that.