11:28 p.m.
March 02, 2004
This room is alive with the sounds of mass anonymity. Walls, windows, water and lights and trash. Everywhere I look, I just think, anyplace, anytime, anyone. I don't feel like there's anything remarkable about who I am, on the outside.

But when you get down to the thick of it, when I deal with my most loved and most at odds, well, I'm individual. And while right now, I'm the most anonymous somethingteen person in america, while I really don't matter, while I could kill myself and the world would move on, I won't, because of how much I care about other people.

In the end, I think that being able to appreciate your anonymity is what it means to love.
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