From my childhood memory; as I remembered, I always knew that myself different.
I hardly understand others’ thinking, speaking or talking.
Changing places to places; I can hardly handle something as my pole to hold.
Religion? Language? or Land to live?
Mostly I knew them all. May be not so well, but enough to survive.
Even now; In the dream more than never know it’s black or white more than that; I don’t know in my dream, which language I’m using. And I cannot remember which language others talk with me there.
I can hardly tell which language is my tough nor cannot tell others which one is my native speaking.
So I can talk all, in the way that worse than I expected in myself.
I cannot deny that everyday always like in hell.
but many little things in this hell keep me feel better to fight to still.
I still feel good to have some pains.
Pains always be real for me; sometimes (more than once) I made myself hurt more to forget pain within.
Sometimes that cannot help.
May be I addicted in challenge; and may be more addicted in pain.
Even I knew it’s must be pain; I still accept that.
to love someone that never notice you’re there for her get pain more than continuous hell.
but to love someone and get pains should be more better than love no one.