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Sept. 6, 2004 Other people seem to understand me, but I don’t or can’t understand myself. I torture myself on things that have happened, and on things I’ve done, whether they were wrong or right. I told James once that I was a little girl who watches, I think that is the best description for me. I stand on the outside looking in, and yet not making a move to join the few people who are beckoning me inside, those same friends later attack me, tell me the one thing that hurts the worst, and then laugh, and kick dirt in my face, and yet I still can’t find it in my heart to share my anger at their betrayal because I pity them, and feel that they are worse off than myself, even as I stand bleeding from what feels like a mortal wound. I crave closure, because without it I am stuck in a never ending cycle of pain and renewal of pain, but that closure hurts worse and longer, before I can bury it beneath my walls of memory and release. I am just a little girl who watches, I can tell you what's wrong with your life, and how to fix it, but when it comes to my own life and problems, I have no idea where to begin. I find myself hating myself, and thinking myself worthless, ugly and fat, and I know it to be true, because how could I be anything else? It is nearly impossible to imagine a world where I am a happy, pretty teenage girl, with friends, and a life. But imagine I do, and dream beautiful dreams of what it would be like to be “normal.” When I see myself through the eyes of others I still see a child, a child whose wishs, hopes, and dreams are undiscovered, because she can not believe in herself. And if she can’t believe, how could anyone else? ------------ About the author: Catherine hopes to become a author, and trys to write of things that touchs the heart and soul. Email: rumpleteaser0697@yahoo.com Tell a friend about this site! ------------ |
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