Dying inside
Apr. 08, 2002 ] 2:47 AM
I just discovered the identity of one of the diarists I read. It was a whim of fate that I should have done so. I could have shot myself. I should have known who he was the minute I found his diary.

But I rather forget and disassociate myself from the time I spent in that elitist institution. It was enough to shatter whatever composure I ever had, and every sense of self-worth. Never good enough, or paradoxically so much better in some aspects that people shot me down for every minor mistake or weakness I had.

That is ironic, considering the fact that most people who emerged from the programme were baptised with an unrivaled confidence, purpose and ...arrogance.

I fear that all I will ever have is the outward shell of such arrogance and purpose, and the cowering mess that is dying inside.

wax ] wane
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