just found this old journal of mine, the one i filled with random thoughts and poems in high school. it feels so weird, like reading someone else's life, i mean how did i lose that part of me, all these little pieces of joy just… gone, and it makes me wonder if anyone would even care to hear what i have to say now.
just checked my account and realized i can't even afford a new pair of shoes that don't have holes— my sibling's next rehab is going to cost as much as my rent and my parents keep saying it will all be fine, but i can’t even buy basic stuff without freaking out.
i thought that follow-up with the doctor was going to be a total disaster, like i was bracing for bad news but then it turned out fine, and now i am just sitting here in disbelief that i can actually breathe a little easier, even had time to make coffee and just relax instead of stressing. i guess i got so wrapped up in the fear of it all that it never occurred to me it might not be terrible...
i thought that follow-up with the doctor was going to be a total disaster, like i was bracing for bad news but then it turned out fine, and now i am just sitting here in disbelief that i can actually breathe a little easier, even had time to make coffee and just relax instead of stressing. i guess i got so wrapped up in the fear of it all that it never occurred to me it might not be terrible...