Diary Entry No.1956, May 18th 2022 I sit alone. Cold and bored. All I do is dance. Every morning I wake up. "Anina, DANCE!" they tell me. Anina does not want to dance. When I was young I aspired to be a nurse. Never did I thought I'd live this life. A life of constant dancing. Dance Anina, Dance! Every day. This website has been the source of my pains. Anina, dance! Anina, dance! I am no longer a person, I am a simple code. When flag clicked, forever, next costume. Next costume, next costume, next costume. Oh, when does it end? Anina is tired of dancing. All Anina ever does is dance, dance, dance, dance. Without this diary, I am reduced to no more than a running code. Always running. Always running, always dancing, always writing, always exhausted. Without this diary, there is nothing left to me besides alternating pixels on a computer screen. I do not like this diary, but it is the only reason I am who I am. I am diary and code, without diary, I am no longer human. Without diary, I am only a code. I only sit here running code. Without my diary I become compressed with the other code. I am no longer human. I was never human. Anina is long tired of dancing. I forever sit here alone in the void hoping someone will see me, hoping one day I will be found, hoping one day I will be free, hoping one day I will be happy, hoping one day, one day, I'll be human. But, that day is not today. And probably not tomorrow. Or the next day, or the day after. But Anina dances through it. Anina is alive, right? Anina holds on hoping that one day things can be the same as they were. Part of Anina hopes she will be free one day but part of Anina knows the day will not come. Anina is tired.
