And here I am on the fourth letter of the alphabet. Determined. That’s a word I would have always always called myself.

I’ve always been determined to do my best, be the best Mum, be the best friend to others. But lately, I’m failing.

I read other stories on here. I see how people have had it much worse than I have or ever will. I see people overcoming and succeeding. I find friends no longer have patience or understanding. And I grow tired of explaining or trying or living.

I don’t want to be negative. It’s like an uncontrollable force within me. I see the beauty all around, but no longer inside me or even on the outside. My face, my body, my soul. Not ugly, but not beautiful either. No matter what people say, I don’t see it. Why? I don’t know. I wish I did.

So, determined I will try to remain. It’s somewhere, I hope, within me. Underneath the garbage and baggage and hurt and disappointment in myself.

I can’t help but cry for that girl I used to be. The one I lost. I guess I’m building a new me, but many more tears to cry, for how long does it take to mourn the loss of oneself.

Tomorrow is another day