25.02.2007, 12:23 am
As much as I would like to believe that my life now is much better, I still cannot deny the fact that some things never change. It's so easy now for me to forget everything. To forget it all. To forget all of the pain and the emptiness and the self-inflicted wounds. I like to think I'm not ashamed of anything I've done, but I know deep down this isn't so. It isn't true and it will never be. I have taught myself the painful lesson of remembrance; that no matter how small or simple an act may be it will stay with you forever. And over time it will only swell, and grow larger, and become something overwhelming.
I am a better person overall but I am still sad. The bridge between myself and others will never disappear. The wall that separates us will never be broken down. The truth that I have discovered in changing so much is the painful acknowledgement that not all things will change. This will not change. I have never in my life met someone who I truly felt was a reflection of myself. I don't mean a lover, or even a friend, but someone who would really see me for what I am. Perhaps I would despise this person, perhaps I would love and embrace them, but the experience would shrink the world to a palatable size. The words within this diary are the closest that anyone will ever come to me, even my own partner, and even still it isn't very close at all.
I lock things up inside of me and keep them. I hide and protect them and refuse to let them be seen. I was a pitiful person when I was a teenager, but I am still pitiful today. I am a coward. For everything I've accomplished I still have accomplished nothing. What truly matters? Is it education? Is it a career? Is it an internship or a scholarship or a grade? That's all my life has become. If you took away my academics I would be an empty person. Lonely, lost, without a purpose. That is pitiful.
For the past four years I have put my heart and my soul into this diary in many ways. I have spoken things through written word that I would never say aloud. I have written between the lines, I have complained and come clean, I have apologized and asked for apology. I have been happy and I have been sad. However, if I read old sentiments I find myself acknowledging that I feel them still today.
I don't know who I am, or what I am, or why I'm even here. I don't know, and if I claim so then I'm lying.
