There’s A Blueberry Pop Tart in the Bottom of My Purse

I forget to set aside time in the morning to cry as I realize that more than half the outfits I’ve set out for work no longer fit me. Mini nervous breakdowns are never that productive.

I have a few back entries I have yet to post as I am feeling censored and scared. Narcissism sometimes mixes with pure insecurity and makes a nasty concoction that paralyzes my writing. I’ve been thinking of this as a way to finally connect and bring myself closer to people but I fear its only succeeded in alienating me even more. I worry I’m sharing too much and its taking its toll. And I wonder if I am the car accident you drive slowly by that you can’t turn away from. I didn’t intend for this to be public record of my demise. Hopefully this depression is at its peak and I can somehow emerge from this local insanity.

There’s a blueberry pop tart in the bottom of my purse.

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