I really hate being inside my head sometimes. Yesterday I spent ages crying because I'm going to die alone. My internal voice has somehow decided that 30 is clearly over the hill, and it's too late to find somebody to love me so I might as well crawl into a ball and just be the creepy lady with the birds
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Jesus, I feel ALL OF THIS so freaking much.
Love you, doll.
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Living is so exhausting.
It really is. But we all keep plugging away at it. It's pretty inspiring, really.
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I know there's a lot of extra societal crap for women around that milestone compared to men so I can't fully relate, but 30 was scary here too (thanks in large part to so many gay guys being superficial little shits... it's as if once you pass that dreaded landmark you're an OAP and no-one wants anything to do with you). I stressed so much as it loomed. But then the day passed and honestly I didn't feel any different than I did beforehand.
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