I realized I am turning 25 this year.
Don’t know why I’m still here in this depressing, weather-frantic place on earth.
Don’t know my purpose in life anymore (I used to when I was a student).
Don’t know when the bf is going to get a job.
Don’t know where I’m going to end up with my job.
Don’t know when I’m going to get married.
Don’t even know if I’m fertile.
I think I want to go to Hawaii.
Maybe if I never care about anyone, life would be easier.
Maybe if I was a bimbotic girl, who only cared about appearance and money, I could snag a rich guy and life would be easier.
Maybe if I was more cruel-hearted, I could get what I want easily.
Don’t know what I want anymore.
I think I’m losing my identity.
Perhaps, I’m PMS-ing, the bf says.