In December 2004 I noticed a change in my moods. The gradual change had built up for a long time and rose to the top of the glass with each passing year. The glass could no longer contain all of the liquid pain that dripped down my face as night tears. Night tears no one could see.

I still feel responsible for my actions. My emotions should not be so pessimistic, gloomy and imaginary. When I read about cognitive therapy, I learned that “should” is an absolute, inflexible term that I need to avoid. I should avoid saying “should.” Whatever. Cognitive Therapy threw me for a loop.

I keep going through my daily activities and act like nothing is wrong. Sometimes I lie in bed emotionally pretending to stab myself because that’s the only suicide that’s not illegal. It’s not illegal to feel pain, merely to act on the pain using violence.

So I keep feeling and feeling, gathering all the pain I can’t even explain, and waiting for when I feel happy or amused or relieved or proud—anything other than this shroud of self-loathing.

Why do I secretly scream, I hate you… I hate you… I hate you?

I felt something wrong since kindergarten when I couldn’t figure out how to bond with the other girls. I grew up the loner with a few friends but always kind of on the outside looking in and knowing it was up to me to analyze situations otherwise I’d never be involved. Some close friends really care about me but many of my friends have major problems of their own because I tend to make friends with people like me.

I look forward to the next two years of college. College is a good place for me. It provides stability and keeps me too involved to get extremely low. Yet there will be those moments when the pain in my chest grows an uncontrollable fire and nobody will be there to comfort me. No one will know how to reach me because I don’t reach other people enough.

I want to become better at expressing my feelings, at being an emotional person. I am all locked up inside and dying because of it. If I died tomorrow, no one would really know me. Some people would care, but I would not have affected others enough. I have a lot to give but first I need to pry myself out of the cage and drown the fires in my chest and keep the cup containing the water.