Thoughts from night time journaling

December 24, Christmas Eve, 9.30 pm

I baked a cake and I made a recipe book and I had a fake concert in my room. Everything is exactly as it was when I was sixteen.

December 26, almost 11 pm

Today was hard: it was like falling into an abyss and finally landing softly and safetely just to realize you will never be able to get up again. I want to be a writer. I know I have to be a writer. I know words are mine and I am them.

Moth. You are a moth. Salturn felt like Oscar Wilde. It felt like heaven if it was structured as a mental facility.

It's almost eleven pm and I keep on accidentaly kicking my parents bedroom's wall as we used to do. My leg is hurting me and I keep letting her. I am sleepy. I am kind. I am too kind for this world, mummy always said that.

December 29, 8.14 pm

Tomorrow I will have breakfast while I read poetry, then I will work and hopefully I won't ruin my nails. Then I will come home and take a shower and in the afternoon I will study and then read and maybe write a bit because THAT IS WHAT I DO.

January 1, 7.39 pm

I am happy, I just don't let myself be it. I have to talk about it with my therapist. I miss her. I don't miss the old me. I am better now. I know I am, I know. I just need a little bit of time. The flame of that candle is getting taller and taller. I don't think I would be the same without music.

January 6, 7.01 pm

I hate my phone. I hate that I always forget to say my affirmations and that this could be why my life is so dull. I wish I could be like the girls on my phone, even though I know that they are not what I see. I believe I will live in London someday. I'll go back to my baby once my passport is done. I am a loner and I love it. Everything will be fine. I just need to think for a little bit. I would really love to be locked in a room with nothing but pen and paper for twenty four hours. Or maybe out in a forest. I think I want to do a meditation retreat. I don't know if I like my room.