I’m going to journal again, so it’s going to be fairly stream-of-consciousness.
I’m trying to be gentle and compassionate with myself, but it’s hard, because I feel like I’ve done so much wrong that I can’t even begin to come back from it. I’m definitely not what society would call a success, and it’s hard to reconcile myself to that. It makes me want to be even more of a wreck, because then at least maybe something would kill me. But I don’t want to be that person anymore. It’s just hard not to. I’ve been my enemy my entire life, and now I’m trying to be my friend, but it’s really hard. Everything is a stuggle. But I guess that’s okay. I have to stoically accept my tragic lot in life like some puritan pioneer. Like Ethan Frome with anxiety and an alcohol problem. Ew. But it’s true, rhere’s no use complaining. I just have to decide who I am and tick to it.
So, who am I?
That’s a hard question to answer. I really don’t know. I’m getting to know myself slowly, but it will take time. And rhat’s okay