It's really hard to write. It's 8AM, about 7 hours after my operation. It's hard to collect my thoughts and construct them into cohesive sentences, they end up becoming jumbled - tenses fluctuating as I progress through the paragraphs. Sometimes, I feel like that. That time isn't a solid concept in my brain. I move to the past and future, imagining things that have happened, and things that will happen. I don't stay in the present for too long, as it's usually mundane and melancholic.

I can't quite comprehend why my brain likes to dwell on the trauma and sheer pain of the past. Why punish myself even more than I already have been? That's the thing with memories, they stay with you. They're the roots to you and your growth of personality and intellect. I suppose all the abuse, guilt and sense of responsibility have all shaped me in one way or another. I probably wouldn't have the emotional awareness of myself and others, nor would I have the will to gain all the knowledge I can.

I grew up in an abusive environment, in a family where everyone blamed me for it, seeing as I was the only blood relation to the abuser. It was only natural that they all seeked someone to blame for the absurdity of the situation (which I am too much in physical pain to give details on - I'll leave that for a painless day), but they didn't really consider my feelings or how it would scar me. People assume, with my troubled and traumatising background, that I would be some scruffy illiterate with no regard for anyone's feelings but my own. Humans have hurt me in the past, why should I care about them?

I had to realise that you cant take the experiences you've had with other people and form generalizations of humans based on those particular things, because truth is, everybody is different. People are so diverse and complex that I think it's rather stupid to keep illogical assumptions on people you have never met.

The End

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