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I hope for night. In darkness no one can quite see the worst parts. I hope for quiet. Even when I'm all alone, I can still hear everyone else enjoying each others company. Outside the window the world is a canvas and I can see all of the beauty all the happy endings all the possibilities. But thats outside. I'm stuck in here. Where only words are only stories and stories are only words. In this city where dreams come true, Why aren't mine? If I haven't "made it" here, can I make it anywhere?