I wonder if I come off as a person with emotional baggage. One of the (very few) things that I pride myself in is my “self-awareness”, the ability to see myself objectively, but this is a characteristic that I am unable to determine within myself. Has my past made me a person of frightening, unpersonable disposition? Do people think of me as someone with deep rooted emotional issues?

I wonder if my history even matters to others. I realize that it’s when I let my history interfere with or affect my relationships that it becomes a problem. I’m afraid, however, that I let things become affected more than I’d like, more than I understand.

The past is something that I recognize as being significant, and I try to keep it only as that. It is something that I learn from, something which can affect me and my decisions today, but not something that I should presently be dealing with.

So, is it?

Well, I’m not completely sure. On a night like tonight, when the midnight sky burns bright enough to illuminate my room, I can’t help but feel unheard, unheard in something I wish to express. What becomes this need to be understood?

It’s a voice I wish to have, to bring me closure, to let me be free.

It has taken me three hours to write this final thought, along with the resurfacing of many distracting memories. Things still feel unresolved, of course, but I have sufficiently quelled my mood until there is a more appropriate time to express myself.

When I see you again, you will understand what I’ve become, and what you’ve done to make me this way.