People call me/I call myself Allison.

I see myself as a very fortunate young woman who rarely feels fortunate. A hypocrite who can’t stand hypocrites. A very flawed person, even though my family thinks I’m a perfect angel. Insane or crazy (or just a lazy bitch), instead of mentally ill. Desperate… for too many things to name.

If I thought you cared and you were listening, I would tell you that I really don’t know how to function in life without someone to depend on. I would tell you that I need to love and to be loved, but I’m terrified of putting my heart and health on the line… especially since neither is healed yet.

I am struggling with finding my place in my new environment. I’m looking for a place to fit in, with my new job, my new town, my new state, my new home, my new (lack of) friends.

I am struggling with getting out of bed in the morning.

Something I have been keeping a secret is that even though I often talk about the pain this last year has brought me and how ashamed I am of myself, I think I would do it all the same if given the opportunity.

I am trying to think positive and something I’m good at is keeping a clear head during pressured situations — others’ and my own, interestingly enough.

I love almost nothing these days. I find little pleasure in anything. I seem to love what brings me the most pain. Not intentionally, of course.

I want people to know that even though I feel so terrible, I still have the tiniest flicker of hope at something better.