A letter from Jan 21, 2025

Dear me in 2026, Hello! It’s technically my first day of second semester today and I should definitely be asleep but there are things I want to say (that definitely could have waited but what ******* ever). I feel slightly terrified that time is passing me by and that my refusal to change or work on my anxiety is myself tying more rocks to my feet on the verge of falling off a cliff. I have (and you likely do too) have this tendency to compensate for your lack of accountability by overexplaining and intellectualizing the **** going on in your head. Therapy has never like actually worked for me and i’ve only begun to realize that. As self-aware as I am I do love to overlook **** as obvious as that. I am terribly afraid of being vain. And overbearing. And yet I already am both of these things, and like we’ve established, I don’t know how to take accountability, so back to square one we go. I’m the problem and I will not do anything about it. I hate that I care so much what people think of me. I hate that I’m so scared of being a bad person yet hurt people like it’s second nature. I hate that I need to recharge after being social. What the **** do I have to do to get over myself because I’m getting far too old to keep blaming it on my age and my hormones and my underdeveloped brain and body. This is really embarrassing for me. As is most things (I can’t sleep at night) Well that’s that. I definitely could have just journalled or something but I want you to hear this and feel some sympathy. That sympathy makes me feel better, because then I’ll know that I will have gotten over this (my fear being that I’ll stay this way forever). So please feel sorry for me. Please laugh. I beg for your pity so that I might find some peace.