Time flies. It's November 2022, the pandemic started almost 3 years ago. Now I'm in my 5th semester of university and honestly, I don't know what I'm doing. Last semester was hell, I was not in my right mental state most of the time but thankfully I managed to pull through and got a decent GPA.
Time flies. I remember being so excited to start this responsibility of studying further and being an over-achiever. Honestly, it's tiring. I don't know to what extent I am able to stay focused and look forward because I barely made it out alive last time.
Thoughts. Nasty thoughts about what I want to do to myself sometimes. It's not healthy. I realized that. Do I need help? Am I worthy of help? I feel like there are people out there that are having harder times or am I going soft? Do I need to toughen up and stop complaining like a little baby?
Talking about being a baby. I cried a lot. I cried myself to sleep a lot. Sometimes I just don't have a reason. I just do sometimes. Is it weird? I eat a lot too. I gained some weight. My self-esteem has steeped so low but I am good at faking the confidence, keeping the act of not giving-a-fuck. You know what? Maybe I should continue faking it. Look where am I now because of it. I have friends, I have decent grades and sometimes I smile and laugh a lot too, sometimes I am genuinely happy.
Do you think I should write often? the reason why I write the most notorious thoughts that I probably should not put out on the Internet is that nobody's gonna read this anyways but if somehow you found yourself on my page and reading this, HELLO. I hope everything's going well for you.
Is everything's going well for me? I could say that, probably. I found myself about to be occupied with a lot of things this semester, I joined my faculty's cultural club, I joined the Taekwondo club and I am still looking for things to do. Just to keep me off the nasty thoughts, do you know what I mean?
I'll write more soon? Hopefully. Thank you for spending time with me.
Wholeheartedly,
Wendy.