Diary

April 24, 2025

Let's forget about what I wrote on the last entry.

I know. I say so but still mention it. Anyways, I'll be thick-skinned and not delete it.

Although I shouldn't be public about it, who made this the only and first time ever that I'm actually dedicated to writing a diary with as much honesty as I can be.

I lied and pretended so much in the past. This time, I'm really surprised by my honesty.

But it seems like I never really wrote anything personal.

It's hard to describe.

If you look at it, it seems like I said a lot in full detail and honesty.

But as the person writing it personally, I feel more like I'm open about what I don't care about and still hide in the dark what I'm ashamed of and feel inferior about.

I always degrade myself.

And I really do feel it. Those were my honest opinions sand feelings.

But I also feel like I'm hiding something even worse than I described.

I don't have any disorder I know of that changes my personality or leave a blank memory or anything complicated.

I haven't done anything illegal to be scared of either.

I just feel like everything about me is bad with no good points.

It's like seeing a bad thing and noticing more bad things about myself.

From my personality to my behavior to my mentality to my personal belonging and situation.

I don't improve or try.

I complain and knowingly state my own bad habits and behavior.

It's like playing the victim when I'm the culprit.

No one made me this way.

Influence is minimal.

Personal choice is more realistic.

I'm also starting to remember my own insecurities.

When I go outside, I habitually hug myself. This is a subconscious action that comforts me.

I didn't know until awhile back, my sister once asked if I'm okay or if I had a stomach ache.

I was startled and didn't know how to answer.

If I let go, my hands and arms can't stay still at my side. I feel uncomfortable and self-conscious.

I felt ugly.

There was no belonging while standing next to my family.

I felt like running...

Run as fast as I could.

Run back home and shut my doors again.

I didn't want to go out for another few years.

But I held on by hugging myself. That was my comfort for going outside...

Ah... shit. I feel like crying while recalling that feeling.

It really does feel like drowning in an abyss.

How do you even begin to tell the people around you about this?

I feel like a paranoid crazy person.

I feel fucking dirty.

I know I'm dirty!

Don't you notice I never dared to come in contact with my younger brother or baby nephew?!