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  1. I rarely venture out the house but every other day I go feed the swans and ducks in the pond at the bottom of the hill. Yesterday when I returned I continued writing my suicide letters that I began on Friday. I have tried for so long to get the point across to my parents, to support workers, to psychiatrists that there's just nothing to go on for and I'm sick of being patient and trying to "learn" how to manage in a world that I just don't fit into. The simplest way I can describe it is like this: If a penguin appeared at a duck pond what would happen? The swans and ducks and other birds would laugh at them, give them odd looks because they looked and acted differently. The penguin would quickly pick up on this and either be very hurt and get depressed or would try hard to do what the others around them were doing. However hard the penguin tried they would never be able to quack like a duck or elegantly float like a swan, they would always feel very different. The penguin would struggle to deal with the wet, moderate climate not to mention the lack of food they are used to eating. However hard they tried to get used to bread and weeds they would become ill. They would realise they would never find a mate either. Soon the penguin would die from sadness, loneliness, depression and mal nutrition. If the penguin is a fighter it finds it way to a lake, a river or someone's back garden in hopes of surviving but in spite of its efforts it will always be a penguin. The only way it survives is to be taken out of the pond/lake/river and put in a zoo. A zoo is a psychiatric ward. In the zoo the penguin may still not meet any other penguins but it is nurtured and removed from swans and ducks which tell them it doesn't fit in. Sometimes the zoo keepers (psychiatrists) even try understand and make the penguin feel better about itself but then eventually they have to let it go and send it back to a world of ducks and swans. I am a penguin in a world of ducks and swans and no-one quite grasps this.
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