I can't believe my 23rd birthday is here already. Twenty-three years. I'd be so happy about it if things weren't so horribly financially awkward to where bankruptcy is an inevitable option. Things didn't go so well last year nor this year and next year looks about just the same.
If anyone can wish me a happy 23, that would lift my spirits enough for me to get through the rest of December and January.
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I am sick, and in so being I am the healthy one.
If my darkness or eccentricity offends you, I don't really care.
I will not apologize for being me.
There is no such thing as perfect. We are beautiful as we are. With all our imperfections, we can do anything.