It’s much easier to see the faults in something, or someone, than to admit I have a barrage of my own.
I put the pressure of perfection into each to-do and end up feeling hopeless when the reality of imperfection comes through.
No matter how hard we try to make others happy in the way we speak or how we act, we continue to feel lonely and unloved.
so, if something I post is about a high school experience and the next is about when I turned eight, know that I am a work in progress.
If I sit with this for too long, I get angry. It feels dehumanizing. Am I just a commodity for someone’s desires?
I fell to the ground in shock. My girlfriends and I stared at each other in horror and helplessness. What were we supposed to do now? How did this happen?