this week has been tears in cabs and break downs on broadway and nostalgia and mixtapes and so much fear. does anything ever change?
i declared a major, though, and it wasn’t what everyone expected, but it is going to be good. everything is going to be good. long term hope twenty-fourteen.
There’s a thesis bubbling under the surface, about love and growing up and how polluted my brain is with a combination of serotonin and oxytocin, memories and hope for the future.
I don’t know anything, and I’m not sure how to proceed.
I’m beautiful and smart and I’m going to make it through everything that is happening. I’m going to be okay.
Basically, everything has fallen apart and I’m trying not to be a train wreck but don’t think I’m doing very well and really wish that this year would get off to a better start? How am I supposed to breathe when it feels like I’ve lost an arm?