I'm young. I make mistakes. I say the wrong thing because my filter is flimsy. But I'm happy. I'm loved. I love. I'm a flirt. I love attention and that's okay. I'm emotional. I'm sexual. I'm sensual. I'm in love with mason. I think he's the most incredible person. And yet I tear into him, knit picking his little quirks that I love so much. Why do I do that? Why do I focus on what I can't have so much? Why do I care about the people I've lost or pushed away?why do I need to be liked by everyone? Why do I break myself down so hard so often? Why am I not more proud, more confident? I'm not fat. I'm gorgeous. I'm soft. I'm a hard worker. I'm so so passionate about so much. I'm messy. I'm messy in lots of ways. I'm good. I'm okay. I'm kind. I'm loved. I have demons. They make me better. They come out when I drink. They shouldn't.
They won't. They won't I won't I am good I will be great.
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