i didn't really feel like writing today, but a lot of things have happened since the last time i wrote, and i don't want to forget them.

so. i'm back after my dramatic outburst lol. i had absolutely no inspiration or motivation to write another post, so i'm sorry for my absence.

i'm trying to tell myself it's not my fault. i didn't choose this life for myself, but a part of me always thinks i'm faking everything and that i've tricked every psychologist into believing i have depression and anxiety. like i will have a full blown panic attack, and after i've calmed down for a bit i think...

these past few days have been one of the worst experiences of my life. i initially didn't want to write about it, because i'm so embarrassed, but i wanted to document my story. even if it means telling you the parts i wish weren't part of it.

(sorry if this post seems chaotic, im just stressed and tired, i'll try better on my next posts)

my dad has loved Vincent van Gogh for as long as i can remember. when i was young, he would tell stories about him, about how much he suffered, and how he was never accepted by the people. looking back at it now, i think my dad found comfort in his story. a man with nothing, still being...