I'm always feeling like a broken mirror. I long for my old life so much as I throw myself into this new one. A different face for every friend and enemy... I'm not real anymore. I miss who I was. When I was still sweet. When I was still innocent. Not physically, not my body, my mind. When I was always so hopeful and saw the good, even if it was only potential, in everyone. When I loved so freely... when I trusted. I miss innocent little Amanda. That adorable, psychotic little kid with pigtails, and the worst social anxiety ever, that everybody loved and cared for so much. I wish I could find her. ...I think she might be dead... An angel fell to a demon. A fae taken by banality. A wolf cub hunted to the ends of her will. I lived this life and it sickened me. Starved me, beat me, and abandoned me. And still my passion lives... frail, confused... and driven. A shard of my former innocence remains. Somewhere. Like a splinter lodged in my rotting flesh it will not let me rest. I pray, I BEG for it to become a seed and blossom into the beauty I once knew.... or die like the rest of my and let me rest.