I am miserable as always. But just like every hyperbole in the observable universe, in a literal sense, it is untrue. In truth, I have NOT ALWAYS been miserable, nor will I ALWAYS be. Still misery and pain, when it is present, it feels like eternity.
Lately, I have been thinking of myself from 4-6 years ago, who could not possibly have imagined how far I have come. I am definitely proud of it. Yet I have never felt aimless as much as I am feeling now. My life feels more stagnant than ever before. I never felt more unprepared for adulthood than ever before. I am trying so hard to be kind to myself, yet I keep failing over and over.
Never in my life have I had as many friends as I have now. Yet I do not feel any less lonely and alone in my life.
Dear Friend. I hope every future version of you does not have any regret about you and can be proud of and kind toward every mistake you make now.
> “We might never know why we are here, but we can still proclaim in hope that we are here.
> I don’t think such hope is foolish or idealistic or misguided. I believe that hope is, for lack of a better word, true.
> We live in hope–that life will get better, and more importantly that it will go on, that love will survive even though we will not. As Emily Dickinson put it, hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all. And we are here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re here.”
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