My name is Rein Keer. It's my penname, not my actual, by now, I'd think you'd know that.

I can treat this like my own, personal diary. I become what I am, I can be whoever I want to be on here, I can seek more refuge in you than any physical copy I can obtain.

In truth, I am very, very lonely. I don't know who I can become, or what I should expect in my sad truth. In a for sure scene; I don't have a personality at all. I am whatever the person in the room wants me to be, and I adapt; or not. I still have my own opinions. I am still me. But I don't know who I should become if I ever reveal.

I think deeply that I am very alone in this world of mine that I own. I sit here in my bed, coding down a digital diary. I think I struggle more than people like to admit, and I don't understand how people can be so ignorant to other's problems. While I recollect on my own beings, others sit happy across from me and I cannot help but be jealous of their accomplishments. It's normal to feel like this, people tell me, I know: but why does it feel different than jealousy? I do want what they have. But I also don't, because what I went through is what really made me, me. If it never happened to me, I would've never been who I was. But again, I really don't wanna be me. Is that weird?

I think it's weird. Personally, I find myself weird and I don't see it as a problem, at least not anymore. I stopped caring of what people thought of me, and not in the cool and stylish rebel girl way; but in the form of what I can't care enough for myself in order to care about what other people think of me. I think i'm selfish for the things i've been created from, and I was born from selfishness, I was born from desire and lust and never love and i think that was why i crave love so much, more than I should. Would it be hopeless if I asked? I mean, my boyfriend hasn't talked to me in a month. I'm more worried for him rather than angry.

Dear diary,

Things are so sudden now. I lay on the low life, I sit outside of the radar because I can't bear to understand myself nor others, I mean, who would? I can't understand others, so how would I understand myself just as easily? I spend so much of my time writing away that I forget to think of my own thoughts to keep to myself instead of sharing them online. I keep myself away from things like that.