i want to say, get over it. but i can’t and i don’t know how.

i’m definitely not perfect and i’ll even go as far as saying i’m far from it. hell, i’m not even trying that hard to change it, not anymore, if i’m completely honest with myself. i beat myself up over it and i replay ways in which to become a better version of myself, but change is difficult. it’s true what they say, old habits are hard to break.

a prime example of imperfection: heightened sensitivity

let’s get to the nitty gritty of this shall we? women are sensitive creatures. then there’s me. i kinda take it over the top. at the drop of a needle, i might wallow in self pity, self doubt, self whatever the hell i can think of at the moment. i’m embarrassed to admit this fault.

case in point: he mentions something about lying by omission and some were privy to said omitted information. i was not one. self pity.

pain happens when you care.

case in point: he has many close female friends. i feel subpar. how do i compete? why is it even a competition? why does this even matter? how to deal? i haven’t a clue. self doubt.

pain happens when you really care.

i realize what is going on and i realize it is not an ideal characteristic but how do you change something so ingrained in yourself? so innate?

a colleague recently said, “i just don’t care that much. why, when something has already happened? does it matter anymore?” easier said than done.

there are days i say, “fuck it. i’m allowed to be emotional. i’m allowed to be sad, happy, angry, angrier, and everything else in between. you’re human. be human.”

then there are days i say, “you’re too damn emotional. get yourself together, you’re a fucking mess. no one wants to deal with an emotional wreck of a woman.”

my head. a battlefield. my heart. it hurts a little. and sometimes, a lot.

it’s frightening to imagine i’m not a young woman anymore. and these are the issues i still face.

oh, to be. just… so.