her subsequent diary
As far back as I can remember, I've never been able to feel emotions. pretend to be normal when I'm with other people, but inside I don't feel anything. It's not as bad as it sounds. Everything is pretty much normal, but I'm completely empty and emotionally drained. The whole outside world is like a movie that I watch through my eyes. I don't feel any connection to it. Anything resembling an emotion on my part is choreographed to achieve a certain goal. get comfortable, get informed, The media sometimes portrays people like me as someone who goes out and murders people without feeling remorse and such. But I never felt the need to hurt anyone, although murder was always on the menu of options as a solution to a particular problem that is an extreme solution - like suicide. This ends the problem, but the planning is endless and the consequences are painful.
im Fully functional in daily existence. In fact, I get compliments on things like emotional stability and the ability to stay calm in stressful situations. The media indeed sensationalises the condition to the point where every psychopath is portrayed as a killer. It's fine, but it's as relevant as any fairy tale.
What's more frustrating – that you have to navigate your way through life mimicking emotions, or that people don't accept your lack of emotions? Is this something you wish you could change about yourself, or is it easier to have a moral code based on the intellectual/rational rather than the emotional, because you feel no guilt or shame and does that control you?
eventually, I pretended to be normal almost every hour of every day. I pretended to be friends with people, I pretended to have hobbies, I pretended to care when tragedy struck. But it was all wrong. I felt empty. As I got older, I became resentful of my condition. I wanted to meet other realistic people. I wanted to feel joy, I wanted to feel sadness. I tried to do anything that would make me feel something. Guilt, shame, regret. I wanted to feel something,... anything. But, nothing worked.
No matter what I did, no matter how extreme, I couldn't feel a thing I do not understand this. ... I was an empty, meaningless shell. Nothing could fix me.
but everything had change the moment i met her
she was all empty and hallow like a doll ... like a porcelain doll. Lifeless, and made of glass Her eyes held a hollow look to them, as if her mind had simply disappeared one day, leaving an empty shell behind.
there's nothing inside her at all....I know there isn'tI could not move, and found myself staring at her,like a mirror,a reflection of my soul,i finay realize I was an empty shell,but something blooms deep down inside at the core of my heart strongly holding on the wish i made that someday the emptiness i felt inside would fell apart, and turn into dust
i tried to reach her out with my hands ....i thought if i got close to her then someone can finally understand me for thinking shes just like me
..i was wrong tho...my boring mundane world only flipped upside down.i never had dreamt of unveiling the mask that hides the face of this heroine or whoever she is
all she brought me nothing but despair.
More crimes, baffling codes, clues and New mystery to solve...and before i knew it mystery and cases chases me wherever go
and as the president of the journalism club...in order to give juicy gossips, I must solve this mystery myself
perhaps thus must be a blessing in disguise