I don't understand myself. I was always timid and shy, but not this worried about people. I've lost the confidence in myself to even be able to look someone I've just met in the eye. I have become that unsure of myself. Words and actions and my own self doubt, though slowly, have finally begun to break me down. I can't stand for that. I miss myself. I miss my laughter. I miss how people took to me before I broke inward.

I miss me.

I mourn who I once was, and I incessantly hope that I can find him again. I need him... I need the I that I once was. He was stronger, headstrong and confident enough to not let just mere words and anger hurt him so. I just have to guess that he just was not indestructible. I seek for him every waking moment. I glance at the mirror bashfully, almost avoiding it, in hopes of recognizing something amongst the ashes for what remains. I feel dry as soot. and fearful as ever. I have so many excuses, I sicken myself. I need to surpass this. My daughter needs me to.

I hide behind my anger. It's all that anyone sees of me anymore, and I rationalize that is enough since they don't truly care who I am. My complaints and controversial views on life are what people know me by. Angry, confrontational and coarse. Inapproachable. Cruel. Only these resonate to those who view me with shallow interest. I've resigned myself to believing that this is okay.

Isn't it?

I am nay sure of myself any longer.