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I am ashamed in myself for I am not like myself. I am not who and what I use to be, I don't think of it often, but when I do it hurts. I know I can't go back to be what I use to be because for some reason it is dead, I am even more dead than I ever thought I could be. I could blame my lover, I could blame my mother; both constantly pushing me around away from things I loved. I use to love to read and read, my mother would get angry that I'd only read. Every time I'd pick up a book I'd never be able to finish it because she'd have me doing chores or something stupid so I started staying up late. I'd stay up all night reading and the night became mine for I had no one to pester me. My lover and I use to constantly quarrel, we v would constantly go at each other and hurt one another. She had me doubt myself and question myself; yes, I could blame them both because now I am just a husk of nothing. But I don't really blame them, I'm not as strong as I ought to have been. My dreams are dying, I am stuck in this ugly reality, I was once a glorious dreamer, now I'm just stuck here in reality.

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