March 18,1900
I start this journal to record my future and past experiences.
I have come a long way from when I last had a journal, and the problems
I wrote about then now seem petty and un-important.
Much has happened to me that I would not wish on any living person.
My existence seems to hold no meaning, I have tried to make something of this life,
to try to change it, but after so many years one grows tired of the whole institution.
There are three stages one goes through when one is made into what I am.
The first, hatred and denial ;
This is when one is so disgusted with your self for being what you are
that you try to destroy your self.
When you quickly learn that this is impossible or even rash is when you enter stage two:
Processing: This is when you stop and think to your self, why not make something of this life?
Why not make something with what you are given, change it,
make better use of it, this goes on for some years and then comes...
Stage three: Acceptance :
This is when you learn to live with what you are, you stop and think why are you struggling?
This life is like quicksand the more you struggle the quicker you will perish.
That is when you stop trying to be something you are not, and learn to live with your self.
I am but sixteen, I will never grow older,
I will never die,
I am frozen in time, yet I watch time pass me by.
I watch times change,
people grow old and die,
watch their children grow old and I remain the same.
I have gone through the stages listed above more then once and
each time differently.
At the moment I am at the last stage of acceptance.
I have accepted what I am, but it doesn’t change the fact, that life to me is bleak and empty
with out meaning.
I must go now,
but be assured that I will return,
I have much to write and sadly not enough paper.
Meave.
