I am finally shedding the last bits and pieces of the artificial me. Like a plastic skin which cracked and has suffered weakened bonds with its neighbouring friends, the layers of hate, envy and prejudice are disappearing, one after the other.
I'm no more the old me. I'm the one I was supposed to be, years and years ago. The undissolveable patterns of misery have had their toll: my own character. I want to change, because I have seen the outer layers of me. I want to forget absolutely everything, and re-learn the world from a new and unbiased point of view.
A few days ago, I started regretting being who I was. The regrets came with a lot of bitter tears and half-swallowed outbursts of sadness. I wished I had never met Natasha, I wished I looked different, I wished I wasn't me - I just wanted to be somebody else, at some other place, living another life.
The girl I like is going out with somebody else. There ain't a thing I can do, and for this once, I will accept my usual fate and keep on surviving.
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