... 97

What the fuck happens to me? I break down over nothing, over anything. Could it be that loneliness affects me more, much more that is than I realize and am ready to confess? It very well could.

I got myself in quite a situation: failed to overcome the need of a relationship but already incapable to carry out one. And I know why: because I’m the mind of a teenage girl still free to flirt with the idea of a perfect future trapped inside the body of an imminently soon-to-be middle-aged woman who is expected to be already clear about the realities of life. Catch 22. 

“Try to laugh about it now but isn't it funny how everything works out ("i guess the jokes on me" she said)”