estuvo bien

re-reading these fossil like notions of when i was younger whiny, and complaining about everything is strange. i feel equally happy, sad, and mad. im happy that i was able to have an outlet to express my emotions, i used this space to take everything apart and kinda makeshift it back together. howerver, i am sad that im not as witty as when i wrote. the last three years of my life i couldve spent on writing and establishing my voice. i fucked up repeatedly. i slept so much, its insane to me on how ive spent the so called golden years before adulthood on just sleeping. this fear of failure that hangs over my head isnt helping either. im constantly living in fear that i'll never get better. but if i dont try my future will be written out before i could do it. i can see it already i stay with the firm grow into higher positions, get lazy fall in love with the first idiot who oggles me, get fat, and stay forever stuck all because i was too scared to be myself to write to not give a fuck. ive grown to become worse. im scared, i hate getting up out of my chair because im in fear of all the judging eyes, i get anxiety attacks on the regular, slouching is more than standing bent over to me its a way of life all bent up out of shape ready to tip over.