At 25, I feel like my life is over. I'm over. I wish I could say it's just a rut that I'll get out of soon but I just can't bring myself to think that. From a different angle, what I'm going through may be trivial and shallow compared to the difficulties others are subjected to but we're all made differently and I don't think I'm well-equipped for this type of torture.
I badly need my mom. Seriously. My insecurities are at a peak and I tend to be the worst to myself so I need her to assure me everything's going to be alright. Then again, I don't like my folks worrying.
literarybulimia@gmail.com
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