I have been writing in a journal on an almost-daily basis since I was 17 years old. This is a record of me going through each entry from the beginning, and commenting on the me from fifteen years ago.

I think she remembers the person I used to be. That person is long gone: has been replaced with one who bears many similarities to him, but is altogether different. I am kinder and I love stronger and more. Yet still, there is one thing that still remains the same, a single factor that hasn’t changed. Still I am lonely – very alone or imagining it so. I don’t think it’s Christmas Blues in my tears, for I’ve cried before. Either I am missing someone or there is someone I am missing. Both perhaps. But this chasm can’t be filled with the drop of friendship, nor the near infinite droplets I have. Still, I am sad.

I go through these phases where I isolate myself, usually around January and February. Maybe it is the wintertime blues. During these times, I eventually feel like I’m so alone. Then I remember that actually I’m not. I have plenty of friends and family. I just have to choose to be connected to them.