still 22 on the 24th

I am a very sad girl writing on Christmas eve. Sadness becomes even sadder when everybody else is happy. This is my second breakdown for the year. Everything feels heavy. It had been about bad decisions invested on the wrong people and wrong timing and overthinking. Believe me, I want to be happy–and am trying to be one. The routines, the cycles, they are haunting me. I want to disappear. I want to die. I want to dissipate into tiny bits of moist like what happens with the rain hammering on the road outside this house tonight.

Like the past years, this will be a cold Christmas.

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