It has the ability to become a narrator of life; the capability of allowing it to be truly lived instead of just survived.
It is the best friend of anxiety and depression, complementing them with the feeling of fear of intimacy, hesitancy towards accomplishing hopes and dreams.
It’s much easier to see the faults in something, or someone, than to admit I have a barrage of my own.
I fear that someone’s supposed judgment of my sexuality will have a direct and negative result on my character.
I began to withdraw from my friends. My thoughts became darker, the fun of prom fading into a fog.
I put the pressure of perfection into each to-do and end up feeling hopeless when the reality of imperfection comes through.