January 18, 2023 (JOURNAL ENTRY)

No matter how much I wish to romanticize or love my life I am always reminded with increasing force that there is something brilliant and agonizing burning me out every step of the way. I wish nothing more than to be kind and good but this hollow bitterness is living in me like I am possessed. It is cold and unforgiving and wishes nothing more than to remind me that I have been through more than I can possibly ever process.

I don’t sit here now pretending that I can handle what has happened to me, or what has been done to me. I cannot live with it. Every day I wake up and my head aches and my stomach turns; I am filled with an overwhelming sense of dread with every breath I take and I am exhausted.

I can’t get it out of my head. I am drained of everything I have. What more can I give right now. And the worst part of it all is this neverending feeling of loneliness- that even though I may share what happened to me that night, I will only gain the pity of my colleagues and friends. I do not want pity, I do not want someone to tell me they are sorry for what happened to me I just want this feeling to end.

If I let it get to me, does that mean I have lost?

Does it win over me like it rules over my life, thoughts, breaths, and nightmares? Can it not rest in a crevice between success and failure that dances the line but never crosses it.

What unimaginable things you have done to me, friends. What terrible cruelties.