Dear Diary,

Another day has passed, just the same as always. Sometimes I wish the earth would just explode so I could be wrapped in the unchanging black of space. Black is a lovely color, there is only one shade – not like those others. Always changing, never sincere. Like all the other girls at school. They act different to each person they know. They are completely undefined. It’s like they have no goal in life but to make others’ miserable.

Today they were no better than any other day. I wouldn’t care at all what they said if they didn’t do it so “secretively” – like I’m stupid and don’t know what’s going on. I know what they say behind my back. All that stuff about how I am an ugly demon or something. I wish I could say that I didn’t care… but it hurts. I mean, I know I’m ugly. It’s not like it’s any news to me… but for some reason it still hurts. Then there’s the demon part. I don’t mind certain people being afraid of me – it’s sort of nice actually – but I don’t want everyone to be. And they make up stories about me. Like one of them is that I wear all black because I have an evil spirit living inside of me that makes me have an aversion to anything bright. I don’t have an evil spirit in me; I just find colors to be deceptive. All colors are just illusions, but black is the absence of illusion.

I don’t understand why everyone has to be so mean to people who think differently than they do. I mean, ever since the beginning of history, people have always exiled or even sometimes killed people like me, and for absolutely no good reason. I hate it. I hate life. Maybe I will just end it. I mean, there’s no reason for me to be alive – it’s not like anyone will ever love me anyway, and I’m not really good at anything… I’m just a useless waste of matter.