God damn, it's been a long time since someone really got me.

I'm terrified that I missed all of those chances.

My only chances

As I near my twenty-fifth year, I am floundering blunderingly and mulishly against all of the “supposed tos” the world heaves, toward coveted freedom.

Who is my daemon?

How do I get rid of this self-doubt?
Where do I start in order to feel better about myself?

Twenty-two was a shit year wasn't it?

Singing Come Pick Me Up drunk with the four of you, like our lives depended on it, meant more than you could ever know.

 What happened to "class"?

 Note to self: Stop being so insecure. About everything.

 I'm beginning to see that my loyalty has only ever gotten me in trouble.

 I don't want to doubt you.
But I have a bad feeling about this.
I'm never sure how much more it can take.

You think I'm crazy.
For cleaning and eating well and being careful, responsible, and thoughtful, for taking care of people, for thinking out loud, for having an opinion, and trying, and living.
That's fine. At least I care.