Excerpts from a journal I kind of hoped I wouldn't find again, and now feel a remote sense of distance to. Ah, how things change.
I can't admit it out loud. Technically, I dislike you for what you've done. But my heart still aches for you. It's so weird to write your name like that, knowing you're not listening. I miss what we had. To be fair, maybe it's that that I miss more than you yourself, but you were such a big part of me that the two go hand in hand. The last few days I've just been pining for it, which is pathetic. [I rattle off a memory] Even then, I was in a dark place, but I wasn't alone.
It's almost midnight again. How many nights have I sat up until midnight talking to you? You usually get the message though, this one I'll never send. [Can you taste the irony?]
Why can I not stop pushing everyone I know away?
I rarely write in here when things are okay, so maybe you never really see that side of me - then again, maybe that's because things don't seem to be so awesome recently. He's right, I do complain too much, but I figure, my journal, my head, tough luck.
Back to my refuge. Back to the little dark place I've been keeping for myself.
I want to tell you so much has changed but in reality it's just some sort of vicious cycle. I keep ending up in this place, this mindset, over again. I look up in the mirror and I dislike what I see. My hair is a mess - too long, untameable. My eyes are sad. There's no reason. I had a good day [which I explain]. I was cheerful until the moment I stepped off the bus. What is wrong? My appetite has disappeared again.
Isn't it weird how this is my journal - my innermost thoughts, and yet I still keep secrets from it? There are some things I cannot admit out loud, not even to myself.
Thankfully, I haven't had such a need for that journal recently.
Reading through it makes me sad. I don't realise, when I'm fine, how I felt, but it's there.
A lot of the pages are ripped out.
Just because I never wanted to see them again.
These are just a couple of parts that didn't involve people, or secrets, or too much emotion.
Maybe this is a little too personal. Maybe it'll get deleted.