Thanksgiving

Dear Diary,

As the sun sets on this eve of Thanksgiving, my heart feels heavy with a mixture of apprehension and sadness. The façade I've carefully constructed, the image of a successful, happy, and resilient individual, seems to crumble under the weight of my true emotions. I'm afraid, Diary, afraid of the emotions that lie beneath the surface, the ones I've tried so desperately to suppress. The sadness that lingers like a persistent shadow, the loneliness that gnaws at my soul, and the underlying feeling of weakness that threatens to consume me.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, a day meant for gratitude and reflection, a time to appreciate the blessings in our lives. But as I sit here amidst the flickering candlelight, I struggle to find anything to be thankful for. My heart aches for the connections I've lost, for the relationships that have frayed and faded. I yearn for genuine companionship, for someone who can see through my carefully constructed façade and embrace the brokenness that lies beneath. I'm tired, Diary, tired of pretending, tired of masking my pain. I long to shed the weight of expectations and simply be my authentic self, flaws and all. But as the night deepens and the silence grows heavy, I find myself once again retreating into my shell, afraid to confront the vulnerability that awaits me. I'm trapped in a cycle of self-doubt and fear, unable to break free from the shackles of my own insecurities.

Oh, Diary, I wish I could find a way to embrace this day, to find solace in the simple joys of life. But for now, I can only hope that tomorrow will bring a glimmer of hope, a spark of light to illuminate the darkness that lingers within me.

Yours in sorrow