I wonder when I'm gonna finally want to grow up. I'm 19 years old, a
sophomore in college on my way to a degree in psychology. I work at a
job I hate, with people that are pretty much going nowhere in life. I
sleep, I party, and every now and then I fall farther in love with a boy
that I can't possibly ever live without now. Sounds normal doesn't
it. My life that is. I don't know why I feel like I'm going nowhere
right now, but I do. I've lost a lot of friends to distance, and second
thoughts. I don't know who I am anymore. I can't write, I can't form a
thought, or justly represent it to the world. Who am I if I am not my
words? It's not that I don't have anything to say, it's that I'm so
goddamn tired of spewing the same twisted complaints. I'm sick of
whining about my love life and my false friendships and my loneliness.
When will there ever be more? Is there more, to life, to a world so off
kilter?
So when do we grow out of it? When do we decide to put
pitty highschool dramatics behind us and lead a real adult life? What
does that even mean?
fuck it this isn't making sense.
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