My perception about myself during this time shifted this morning. I was looking at old photographs and letters, and I realised that people liked me. Some people liked me and a couple of strangers went out of their way to help me. Perhaps more than a couple tried, but a couple of them stuck to helping me for a couple of years.

I was so sunk in my own tragedy and scars. I wanted people to fully understand and no one came close. But people really made an effort to be care about me, and that speaks to a different side of my personality that the terrible physical and emotional scars. It's a good thing to hold inside.