I kept one of these things years ago, when I had nice things to write about and when I use to dream.
Right now, I'm just bored and have too much time to think. I've never had so much time to myself, I've already rearranged the clothes I was given three times. That's another new thing, having more than one set of clothes and having somewhere to keep them.
It's so strange being back here, sitting on this bed, it feels eerily similar to when I was a recruit. I guess the bag I was given didn't help, unpacking from that thing was difficult and I almost started to cry.
I felt angry at Paige for using it but it wasn't the sort of burning hatred I'm use to, the type of hate I thought I'd feel. Over the years I hated them, all the people I called my friends. I felt deserted and there was no one to save me. Why didn't they try harder? Why didn't they give up their lives to find me when I'd already lost my own?
I guess, looking back, it made it easier to hate them than missing them and wanting to be with them again so desperately.
Daniel, the pig, had wanted me to hate them, wanted me to hate everything. Did he want me to hate myself? Because I did and I do. He would always joke about how easy it was to take me and how he'd had no trouble with people trying to find me. I let him shape my thoughts and my feelings towards the people I had once loved and trusted with my life. I gave up on what I knew as myself and hid her away to keep her safe.
I think I did that out of desperation, everyone else had given up on her why not me as well.
Did I forget about her because I thought she was lost forever? Now useless to me in my new world. I thought she was gone, but being back here has let her resurface again and I don't know where she fits..
God, I spent so many nights imagining what would happen if I was ever found, I always had myself telling everyone off, making them listen to all the horrible things I saw and did. Maybe I wanted them to feel bad, like if I told them these things they would somehow suffer the same as I did. I was going to demand an explanation as to why was I out there for that long. I thought I would rage and scream, like I had felt I had wanted to for so long, but now I'm back here it's different.
Sometimes, like when I saw Hannah and Aria, I felt like it could be so easy to just let them hug me again but the look on their faces, that love, scared the shit out of me, it seemed so alien and out of place. Why am I finding it so hard to accept the way I feel instead of the way I thought I was going to feel, it's frustrating.
I'm so confused, my mind is going a million miles an hour while I try to remain clam on the outside. All these years have taught me such self control that I wonder if it's now restricting me emotionally. Will I ever feel like I use to before all this? Or is this who I am now?
I know I won't sleep, its too quiet and my bed is too comfortable. I keep waiting for someone to call out my name to go and do something for them. I keep listening out for the sounds of men's voices, laughing and talking shit, making me feel like everything was going to be okay for another night.
I can't feel the hard bump of my pistol at my side and that's making it hard for me to settle.
The only thing that's calming me is playing with the pendant around my neck, I do that every night out of habit. When I was taken it was the only personal thing I had on me, the only thing I managed to keep all these years. I needed to keep it close, it was like a physical token of my hope to be found again, to see her again. The memory it gave me kept me sane, the connection I felt to my old self through it was strong and comforting.
The connection I felt to her kept me warm. A connection I think I still feel.