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Reading jael's journal

Scream as loud as you can. Punch the wall over and over till your knuckles start bleeding, punch it over and over, drag your knuckles over that textured wall.
Scream so some one could hear it. Maybe they'll come by and recognize pain.

Year after year after year, I get my hopes up, there would be someone who I could really share myself with. And year after year after year its the same dissapointment, one after the other you give your hopes a rise, maybe this is the person you could talk to what ever you say won't come back and haunt you and keep your from saying anything more.

Ever felt trapped? No, not just in a box, in yourself. I have reasons for becoming a social outkast, most days I understand and cope with it. I've learned to live with myself and no one else. I've learned that people come and go. I'm not as I used to be when some one leaves now, it just happens.

I've lived two lives for god knows how long. I need to bring them together, and everytime I do - it just doens't work. They arnt compatible.
So you think, alright I'll eliminate the one which is a lie but none of them are, they both are you.
Then what do you do? Do you continue lying? do you continue living parrellel life.

I used to have so much motivation, I wanted to take a better photograph. Now all I can do is dream, that maybe one day I'll be a better one. That my photographs would be recognized, that it would be bought, that it wouldnt be empty words said to me when they supposedly praise.

I'm twenty years old. No, its not too old - but its old enough for me to make most of my decisions. I still can't do that. I still cant take full control of my life. I still have a stupid cerfew when ever I come back home.
One of the major reasons I was sent to Australia was to understand the value of family.

Does that mean that my parents wanted to spend a great deal of my money to keep me happy and let me know that I did get some sort of education but get me married off and that I can understand the value of family

I dont understand why life just keeps getting difficult. Why is that I complain more than I better things to say? Maybe it's just a phase that I'm going through. Maybe all these years are a bad period of my life and I have to wait.
Maybe I just complain to much about everyone else around me. Maybe I'm just impossible to please.

I'm not pathetic. I've lived this much of life by myself, so dont you dare say you feel sorry for me, I dont want any piece of your pity.

I hate winters, they drain me of every emotion possible. I have to take a walk down memory lane with my daddy dragging me along showing me all the sites.

I hate new years, I've hated my birthday for the longest time. HOw much of me would it take to tell every person to fuck off.
A whole lot more than I have.
But till then I'll scream.