THOSE WHO SUFFER LOVE
I think, once, I possessed the power to record emotional truths on paper:
This is from the fist entry I ever wrote on this diary:
"But what is there for me anywhere else? What if the problem is not where I am but who I am? What if I am the problem? And I know that I am the only one who can fix it. But I don't know how. I don't know how to make school better. How to pass Algebra I. How to make myself feel loved. How to find my purpose. How to find people who I like and like me back. How to feel fulfilled. And now it just seems like this is the last place where anything extraordinary can happen. But must I just work around the setting into the conflict? I just feel like I can never escape. That nothing is in my hands. That I can't hold the weight they're putting on my shoulders. That my whole life is meaningless. I have no purpose. I am unfulfilled. I am empty. I am lost.
I am exhausted."
Change comes in funny strides.
I wrote that when I was 13.
It would appear that my problems have shifted rather extroirdinarily. Though the blame always lies in the same place...
Also, if you don't listen to Katzenjammer Kabarett, I'll eat you. They're wonderful. Also been listening to a little Alkaline Trio.