So...
Writing in a diary...I can't say I ever envisioned myself doing a thing like this, but here goes nothing.
Where do I begin...should I start with my "broken" past or start with my "broken" present? I grew up here...I know everyone here...and yet, I feel like I am walking through life beside them instead of with them. To say I feel trapped would be the understatement of the century. Trapped in my head, trapped in this town, trapped in this failing vineyard and trapped in the grief that surrounds me everywhere I look.
I wake up in the morning with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. It's another day. Another time to rise and shine, yet somehow I seem to let everyone down over and over again. I can't say that I'm trying my best...I just don't have the motivation. The willpower.
When night falls, I find relief all alone by the shore. My happy place. Watching the waves ebb and flow. It's almost hypnotic to me. I dream that someday they will take me away. I hate this place.
I drown myself in my one true friend who takes my pain away if even just for a while: wine. Yes, that's me. Karen, the snarky girl who can outdrink anyone in this town. I'm not sure whether it's something to be proud of or not. Don't they know how I hurt inside? That this is how I cover it all up? I suppose not...but no one in this town really understands anything at all.
I wasn't always this way. Sure, I have always been different from the others my age, but I haven't always been like this. So bitter I hardly recognize myself...so cold I push anyone who might care away. And yet, I do nothing to change it.
Won't something change in this town? I fear for myself if it doesn't. What will I become? Will I die alone? No one interests me…no one connects with me. But are they to blame when I give nothing in return? I know how I must seem. Snarky. Sassy. Call it what you will, but if they only knew how I felt inside.
I don't need anyone. I'm used to facing these demons alone. But, when will I admit to myself that I might want someone to share these things with? I don't have many friends. I think I want to reach out, but I don't know how. Which brings me back to you, diary - an echoing of my own thoughts laid out so simply. I don't think I want to be alone anymore.
Karen