dear diary

it's been years and i still have nightmares.

i find consolation in change. it brings me comfort to imagine you wouldn't recognize me if you saw me today.

still, sometimes i think about what i had and what i lost. some nights it makes me want to cry. some nights i do.

i find desperation like my own in the last dying scream in 'translating the name.'

i'm embarrassed by my mistakes and i yearn to feel understood.

i worry my actions will haunt me. i wish that i could have done differently. i want to curl up in a ball and sob.

at least i look good today.