(I know its not how you spell it) I just looked at some of my older books after today and I really feel hurt and sad. Incredibly sad. The reason is that the former emotions I once locked up and couldn't recognize are now hitting me. It hurts. It really really hurts. Anger, hate, frustration, betrayal, loneliness, self-loathing, and even apathy, boredom, and the fewer simpler emotions that aren't muddled like happiness at being able to draw or exploring the rare friendships I established during high school. These are the emotions that I'm writing about because I remember the books, what was inside, why I read them, how i felt about them then, and how I felt about my life in general. I hated it. I hated it all. I wanted to hurt something and maybe even myself but could never harm myself out of fear and self-preservation. Those high school years were hell and 10 grade year was the best. I always had homework or if I didn't I'd be bit-ched at by my guardian. The kid that created the early forms of Wren before you even joined was miserable, lonely, and found escape in the solitude of the mind, loud music that drowned out even the loudest of screaming, and the creative arts of poetry, writing, and personified gameplay of acting out another character's life.

I really feel sorry for that person. The kid I was. The kid inside a golden cage where everything was taken care for and everything was a weapon of control because nothing belonged to him. 9 months out to sea, a general discharge from the navy, and the threat and promise of freedom as a civilian has changed me just enough. But man... All these emotions Im writing about hurts. They really do. hurt. All these years I didn't feel the pain or even knew it that was being surpressed or rather lack of emotion. as a person absent of real joy or anything other than fear of punishment. Now after looking at a book and thinking of the feeling then hit me like a backlash.

If you ever know why I could write so well then the few things I mentions are vaguely described.I don't want pity because I already feel sorry for the child I was. I feel better now as if a bubble burst for now but when I say the child I was I mean it as if I were a different person then. I hope to never have to go through it again because in my time in the navy I could only feel as if I were reliving the tragedy before it. Now, I'm older and with a promise of freedom and a chance for happiness or at least a pursuit of something big that I may enjoy. A different person... Just now I have a few of my memories back and I hope if I remember more I can handle it.

If wren was a quarter of me of my dreams and desires, online interactions, then he was sure a hell of a b*****d to deal with I might guess. I need a break to recover emotional stability but thats it for now steve. I needed to write it down and let someone know.