i hate to admit but i honestly think about... myself. so much. not even who i am today or who i will be later on. but who i used to be. not in a "oh my god i wish i could go back" way. i'm 27. i'm 27 and i never in my life imagined making it to 27. fucking winging every year, every age. i wanted to kill myself when i was 12. i almost did when i was 18, then 23. i dreamed of moving to nyc and berlin when i was 15 and 16. i moved to copenhagen when i was 22. i moved to berlin when i was 26. will i get to go back home, to the states? where even is my home? why was i so tormented as a teenager? why did i hide behind a laptop screen and not make more of the world around me? do i even care? mostly what i am asking myself is would the younger me, who made beautifully curated blogs and dreamed of escaping her family and cried all fucking night every night and took erroneously prescribed tranquilizers as a fucking teenager, would she be ok with what i am today? and then, 10 or so years from now, again, will whoever i am in future look back at me now, scorn her for being so guarded and not giving anyone a chance? am i even giving myself a chance? does anyone care about a late-20s crisis? do i even care? whatever. but i'm coming back to hide from reality on this account. some things never change
tangentwithtanner
dailybridgerton
andulkaphoto
areudirty
vaporwave
ellievsbear
