The Pillow Book of Carmen Garcia

HOW DETRIMENTAL IS living in fear, segregated, trodden, almost discarded by society? I shouldn't use such terrible words; well, guess what? I've learned to live with it for the past year, more or less; I'm no longer keeping track of time. I could blame the ones who degraded me, with or without intentions, but sadly, and with tremendous courage, I can only blame myself. I can only blame the terrible choices I've made, and day after day I can only find the strength to survive, to live with hope, to get better, so that I can preserve my dignity. This journal was not intended for any purpose, probably it shouldn't even be read; it was only meant to be written. It's a disturbing chronicle; a life that is slowly slipping away, deteriorating—perhaps. It's about self-respect. Hopefully I shall not bore you with any cathartic effect, because it would not be my intention.