It’s so difficult to be hopeful, like it’s expected of you, and yet so hard to achieve. You’re so compelled to keep on going, even if you don’t see a reason to, just because others expect that from you.

I go in circles from „there is no love” to „there’s someone out there for me” and back to „this whole world is hopeless”, and all of them are true and untrue at the same time.

I feel like I should be grateful for the opportunities I have to learn people and the opportunities I have for me to grow, but also this is so exhausting after a while. It feels like nothing makes sense or that maybe I’m looking for the wrong explanations for things.

Life should be more than black and white, and it’s not just grey. Life is cruel, and get forgiving. I am stupid and still learning, I am so strong and delicate.

It’s OK to lose people and to lose yourself, and it’s OK to gain them back, while you cut a new life for yourself. Life is not a straight road, it is convoluted and constantly changing.

And for the first time in such a long time I’m just happy with myself. What more could I want?

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