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which I don’t. I have to be excellent, and the problem is that this pressure is instead turning me into an absolute failure. Well, except for soccer. Over my dead body will I fail at that. Everything else, though, is going to shit. I’m a scattered friend, an absent daughter, a lackluster student.
Life doesn’t live itself for you, and nothing is promised to
takes a while to see life as glass half full again.
It feels like an avalanche of emotions—all the pressure, the overwhelming anxiety, and expectation, collapsing my chest.
yellow made Willa light up like a ray of sunshine.
