Think I might delete this story but I don't know yet.

Thanks for my reviews.

Without Further Ado,

Chapter 3

The Diary of a Dreamer

Max P.O.V.

May 2nd

Dear Diary,

Diary, I've done something bad. Something really bad. It's involved a razor and the skin on my wrist. It might be bad but it felt so so good. How the red mixed with white, it was sort of pretty. It is bad to say that I enjoyed it? Is it bad to say that my arm is now covered in little red healing marks? I don't think so.

If you think it's so bad, blame all the judgmental bitches. Me? I'm just waiting on the world to change.

Diary, my mom can never find out that I'm cutting myself with a razor and my little pocket knife. She'll make me go mental help, something I don't want to do. They'll send me to the loony bin for sure. The place they say is for the "crazy" people. Have you ever thought about this, that maybe the people in those loony bins aren't the crazy ones? Maybe they're actually the sane ones and the rest of the world are the crazies? That's what I think anyway.

Yes, I'm not crazy. I have a poem to prove it to.

Crazy

I'm not insane.

I just misplaced my brain.

I'm not crazy.

All my correct functions are just lazy.

So, I've replaced them.

And, really the new ones are like a pile of gems.

They may work a little differently.

And now I may think a little strangely.

But that doesn't mean I'm crazy.

When I'm hurt, it barely even fazes me.

And sometimes, I cry for no reason at all.

People say it's impossible,

to fall three stories down and live.

Now, I will prove them wrong, this gift I will give!

Oh, no, I realized, my gems were acting weird.

Maybe it was about time to feel some fear.

Oh too late. I was going down.

At that moment, my brain was found.

See my point, even if they say we're crazy and that we have no control over our brains we do. Like if we decide to fall three stories, our brain will always be there before and after we jump. I am not crazy. Even if people say I'm crazy. I say nothing. Agreeing is pointless because then your sane. Saying no is getting yourself a freeway ticket to therapy. I'm not crazy like those fools who pretend to be. They say thinks like 'the voice inside my head says I'm not crazy and my imaginary friend agrees' or 'I'm not crazy. I just have an alternative outlook on the world.' Being crazy is being at the edge. Always. Breaking down. Not like spontaneously crying breaking down but breaking down. Actually breaking. Thinking things are okay is being crazy. Like thinking yelling parents are just a mood or someone dying just happens. Being stupid. Being crazy is not giving up. Refusing to die. Not committing suicide, but testing your limits. Finding a puzzle in everything. Thinking how to do nothing, everything and the impossible. Making pointless and meaningless plans. Sometimes, people ask me 'why?'. Why what? Doing things because I can. Thrills from chills. Meeting death, looking it straight in the eye and telling it 'hell no.' people call me crazy. I like it. Do it again.

Signing off,

Max.

A/n:

I Know it's short! But at least it's something!

Hope You enjoyed that stuff that all came from my head!

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