Confusing myself and others.

I so wasn't convincing myself yesterday that I wasn't in love with this one person. Really. I didn't. It's just a momentary lapse of sanity or something else. I don't want to be in love. DNW! Acting like a child - it's stupid. And maybe I'm just confusing love with admiration or something else. After all, I don't know what love is. And that person wasn't in classes yesterday, so I could prove to myself that I wasn't in love.

I'm slowly and surely fulfilling my new year's resolution. I've started writing poems again. I'm happy for this, but why do the inspiration come when I'm half asleep already and too tired to reach for a pen and my diary. But at least I'll finally write again.

My favourite pastime at the moment is reading my old diaries. I'm learning so much about myself:

How many time did I want to start my life all over again, how many times did I want to end it. I wanted to find love, I cursed at myself too much. Got confused and hated myself and my body. And how many times did I hate my mother and think that she hates me. Too many times. This is summed up version of my diary (dated from 2007-01 to 2007-11) How many times did I fall in love? I got confused with my sexuality. I'm just a confusing person, and sometimes I don't understand myself.