Jamie's writing ❤❤

Four.

They laugh at me. "You're such a freak." I hear it everyday. It doesn't bother me anymore. I'm used to it now. I've lived here for five years. They've made fun of me for four.

I'm not the same as them, you know? They're all happy. They wear bright, happy colors. But not me. I'm not happy. I don't wear bright, happy colors. I wear dark colors. They make me feel protected.

I have tattoos and piercings. They don't. Those aren't welcomed here, but they can't do anything now. This society is messed up. Maybe, I should just leave. I'm sure they'd be so much happier.

They don't care about me. They hate me, really, they do. I don't care. I don't need them. I just need me and my art. I only care about my art, but they don't understand. They have a warped perception of art here. It's bad. Not allowed. "It's witchcraft", they say.

I've thought about leaving. Not like they would notice. Or even care. But don't worry, I'll be okay. I protect myself. I take their hateful words and make it into art. It creates beautiful art.

If I leave, I'll leave my journal behind. They won't read it. They won't care. I only hope that someone, somewhere finds this. Reads it. You'll know my full story then. I'll have no secrets. I'll have to disappear first though. I can't be here when they find it. It will make things worse.

I'm sorry for anyone who's ever had to suffer like I have. It's currently three in the morning. The perfect time to leave. They won't notice me. They won't care in the morning.

I must leave now. Goodbye.