I don't feel. I think I like this. I'm sure I could live this way.   It's like I'm not real.   It's like I don't exist and I prefer it that way.      In more or less a year, no one has made a difference here.   I am here on a horror day.   I am here where you left me.      I don't speak 'cause I don't like to. I don't even know my voice.   And I only breathe because I have to, certainly, not by choice.      All of it slamming down.   No one can make a difference now.   I am here on a horror day.   I am here where you left me.