Dear Diary,
I stared, motionless, before the mirror. As always, I stayed until I'm convinced that there is no glass, nothing, separating me from the room I see on the other side.
I imagine that everything is different. Over there. Better. There are people, in that world, who I would like. But, like always, my hand hits the glass.
I know that if I'd only waited one more second...
10:35 p.m. - 2004-05-10
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