I'm finding it so much harder. Harder to stay above the waves of bitterness that come crashing down on me, harder to struggle against the current of jadedness that threatens to drag me into that unfeeling despairing creature I so fear. I fear that I will wake up each morning, unable to feel. Unable to understand, unable to empathise, unable to relate to anything. This is one of my "wake up in the morning" fears, of losing any connection to anything that anchors me in this world. I would die without my heart, without emotion.

But as I grow up, I fear it is happening. The child's troubles may be trivial, but the emotional anguish exceeds the adult in intensity. (Remind me to read Mill on the Floss one day). At the crossroads in between, where the problems are substantial but the pain recceding, I find myself lost of that instinct that has guided me.

And it is all withering away. Slowly so as to not arouse any panic, but surely as this dread sweeps over me. I no longer cry, and it is something I worry about everyday. I no longer laugh until my cheeks hurt, I no longer skip and jump for joy, I no longer have the intensity of emotion that I used to have, and it worries me. It worries me that this world is really getting to me, when I have written so much, thought so much, deluded myself so much to prevent that from happening. I do not want to lose my heart. I do not.