I have a truly wonderful life. And it is ungrateful of me to feel the way I feel, react the way I react, but here is me and the truth of my ungratefulness to luck, because I doubt whether pretending is a better way of living. Even if I thought it was, I doubt my abilities as an actress. I am dragged down by thoughts of unknowingness and disbelief in myself. I am powerless and have a leak of pain in my heart. My scream is heard only within me as I stand on the kitchen and slowly cut potatoes. The tears drop to the bottom of my bowel as I sit with friends and silently listen to their conversations. I wish I could speak, but numbness has a stronger volume than my voice. And even each word I write looks so ugly. My sister told me this morning how wonderful the morning was and how I ruined it by my negativity. But am I guilty feeling what I feel. How come we embrace honesty, we hate "fake", but we love lies. I wish I could be her. I wish I smiled more often and was genuine with people, talked freely and smarter. But I am me. and will be me. So what it is I have to do - pollute the air and try to breath it.