Help. That's what people seem to want to give you when you tell them a sad story, your sad story. But sometimes you don't want help. You simply want someone else to hear your story.

My uncle was molested in the first grade. By his principal. Skeletons in the closet.

And now he's dead.

I think everyone has a backstory. They have too. I guess it's whether or not you're real, if you've toyed with life and it's bitten you back. Sometimes I think people haven't experienced the pain I have. Maybe I'm just being selfish.

Sometimes you just want physical pain, beaucse your emotion is long gone. Or maybe it was never there to start.

The best stories told are the true ones.

Pain. Sometimes people turn it into hatred. Hatred on others. Hatred on themselves. It all depends on strength of character. Sometimes they don't even know the pain is there, all the worse.