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Each stab comes from a diferent side. I'm surroundded, covering myself from the knifes using bare hands. Running is the only way out. It's always been like that. Here, on loneliness, they ca't hurt me. Here, between these walls, nobody can see me, and nobody can make fun of me. Out there everything I do, everything I think and everything I say will be wrong, and for that i will be scoffed. But not here. So, id' rather rot my mind, let the obsessions cover me until I become a fat manchild. Because at least I'll be safe, because at least there won't be anyone left to see me, nobody left to hurt me. Here everything can make sense, and what is yes is yes, and what is no is no. Here there is only one truth, wich is clear and benigne, and i prefer it to all those other truths out there.