...

It's been so long and while I have so much to say I also don't know how I should say it. It seems to me that this has become a journal to me. Part of me hates it and the other part maybe wants people to read this as to explain why I am the way I am. Maybe I am just looking for sympathy or catharsis or something. I think I have given up on the idea that this would somehow get people to understand me, as if understanding can fix the messes I create.

I think I finally realize what has been done to me can not be undone, at least not easily. It terrifies me, the person I have become. So jaded and callous, I remember a time which I looked at the world with such warmth. Perhaps it is just the coldness of the season which torments me so, however it can not reveal what isn't there.

I've forged myself out of the cold indifference of necessity and I've built for myself such high expectations for who I should be. So perfectly flawless, beautiful, kind, well spoken... a truly unreasonable standard for anyone, let alone the self. I think I hold a lot of people to this same standard, though to different extents. I truly despise myself for it. For everything. If I am the product of my environment, then it is no surprise that the foundation built on hate, anger, survival is rotten and weak. I can feel it now, I think I have for a while, I burn. I torment myself daily for all of my mistakes and misgivings. As if I could bear the weight of the world. It will catch up to me someday, of that I am sure. For now, I smoke and drink. Sometimes I don't think I could bear myself sober.

I hope that this is temporary, that I am not as horrible a person as I sometimes make myself out to be. But I am plagued with doubts and I am so scared of what I have become. I am still trying to stay positive and to work on myself. It can be hard, but what in my life hasn't been.

Much love,
- Penny