I don't know why I still write these diaries, maybe because I know deep down I am still broken and depressed and I need this outlet to keep me sane.

I manage to detach myself from the four person I have any attachment to in this world so now I consider myself freed from the curse of empathy. I was in my bed one night and was thinking about the last time I was happy, it was when my ex cuddled with me and tighten his arms around me. That feeling, I am forgetting it, I can't recall the sensation anymore as I vividly use to. I also can't clearly remember his face, and I know my brain is trying to piece it together with false information.

This realization should really upset me and make me have an episode from knowing the fact that I don't even remember what happy is. Yet, all I did was shrug off. I think I am broken, but differently as I was. Or maybe this is normal, I don't know anymore.