These last few weeks with Drew have been the hallmark of my life. I’ve foolishly held him back. And for what? Because I’ve been afraid of getting hurt? Afraid of getting in too far to the point where our friendship was no longer salvageable? Because my mother did irreparable damage to my self-esteem, and I grew up believing I was unworthy of anything special? I’ve got two words for you. Dumb. Fuck. That’s me. Life is so painfully short. And the happy times don’t always outdo the miserable ones. So why do we allow things like fear dictate our happy times? Dictate how we live? It’s so flipping
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