My Last Day of 22

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“Amazing, still it seems, I’ll be 23.
I won’t always love what I’ll never have.
I won’t always live in my regrets.”
23 – Jimmy Eat World

It’s my last day of 22. Half of it I spent sleeping, wanting to experience as little of the day as possible. I’ll do the same tomorrow. But I’m tired of it – of not living.

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This song, by a band very important to me that I grew up with, has been on my mind lately. For obvious reasons. It’s called 23 and tomorrow that’s how old I’ll be. I want this song to motivate me.  I want it to be a part of what gets me to really start living.

Because I have more bad days than good. And some days I can’t even get out of bed. Normal, every-day activities wear me out and I’m tired of wishing my life would just change magically. I know I have to do something about it. It has to be me. I can’t sit around waiting for someone to save me from my loneliness.

And I have been slowly making changes. Slowly but surely. DBT was a huge step for me. I’m writing a book. I’m submitting my writings to different magazines and sites – I’m no longer living stagnant.

I’m in need of a friend – of people – who understand. Where I’ve been, where I need to go. Because I can’t do this alone.

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Published by

yourprettylife

23, female, Toronto. Mental health advocate, writer, makeup artist.

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