I don’t know how else to cry for help
I’m scared I’m going to romanticize the past, like I so often do, and forget what a horrible rat you turned out to be.
my writing is sloppy as fuck. I have a story in my head, and I want to get it out into the world, and at the very least onto this paper but the medicine that’s relaxing me enough to put it all in perspective is the same medicine that’s fucking with my grammar, my finesse, and my writing style in general. fuck