...of closing this journal are in my mind.
I have come to realize how I must appear to those who read here: bitter, selfish, unrealistic in my desires and expectations, full of self-pity and always ready to blame others for my own failures.
The title I chose, so long ago, has become self-fulfilling prophecy.
I can't write about what is in my heart. Even now, I am holding back, afraid of putting down the wrong words.
And when that happens, it's time to go.
I don't know if this is permanent. I'd like to believe it isn't.
But as it stands, I can't enough place enough value on my own thoughts to feel free to share them now.
I wouldn't want to read the story of someone who, when all is said and done, has failed in those areas he considered crucial, essential to his life, who dislikes himself in so many basic ways.
And I won't ask you to.
1 day ago