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The Closing Log
So, the title of my diary has changed. I find this new one much more catchy. I have undergone a few major changes... Nothing I shall share with the reader, you will feel the change. My previous posts and the more recent ones will strike as different,
Looking Back

Dear sir or madam, I am writing to inform you that I am departing from psychological normality.

gaia_nitemareleft gaia_crown gaia_nitemareright

I will not bother to lie that I have read very single past entry. I did not. I only read the very previous one and the first entry. I am not sure why, but I remember thinking that I was either too mopey or too gentle in that first post. But now that I've read it, I see that I would not have written it now in any other way.
Yet, I remember (and read, too) that I considered what those people did to me as merely 'having changed me'. But I believe that those three years that I've spent in that school were traumatic. I thought everything was slowly left behind, as a mere section of my being. But those traumas, those memories... they are shaping my daily behaviour. I believe they have irremediably broken my mind.
Judge me as fragile. I beg you. I believe I was indeed fragile. A fragile mind, one that now, in its horrid state, has developed an incredible protective shell. No matter what few good things happen to me, I cannot forget.
I just can't. Every new face is far from new, as it reminds me of an old, unpleasant one. Every moment is a déjà vu. I cannot do one thing without a sour moment of the past to come rushing before my eyes. It's as if I see with one eye the world as it is now, and with the other I can only remember. With one ear I listen while the other replays. I can almost hear their voices.
I believe I am going mad. I suspect I have managed to develop, yes, develop, a sort of bipolar disorder. It is nothing confirmed, but I can feel that something is wrong with me. Not only am I not as before, I don't believe I can return to being that way.

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