I can honestly say that I’ve changed for the better since the death of my mom. I’m stronger, I’m resilient. I appreciate everything more. I’m not sure if this is bad but, I’m hyper aware of my own mortality. I know I will die someday, and I’m preoccupied with how close it is sometimes. I wonder if it’s tomorrow, or a month from now, or decades from now. When I wake up in the morning I am always pleasantly surprised that I’m alive, that I’m in my room, in CT, on the planet earth.

Unfortunately I’ve become somewhat callous to people who know me well. But I think I’m up to a healthy standard of unfriendliness for normal people, or at lest New Englanders. I hate to describe my former self this way, but I was really a bleeding heart, and a chronically good samaritan. “Danielle is a pleasure to have in class. She is very intelligent and at times outspoken and passionate. She has some trouble concentrating and exhibits unusually high levels of empathetic concern for other students.” -elementary school progress report. Well, that person seems to be hiding in me somewhere. I feel strongly about others, but I just can’t seem to show it anymore. I can already feel that I’m having intimacy issues with everyone I should be close to (which is reasonable, given my past). But I just can’t seem to shake the iciness from myself. I’m hoping its just my current coping mechanism,  but I’m afraid I won’t be able to love anymore. I just don’t feel like a loving person any longer. I feel cold. I just think it’s kind of extreme considering how intensely appreciative of others I used to be. The upside to my weird new state is that I don’t get taken advantage of very often. I just don’t trust and I don’t get close enough anymore.