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I have only one and almost half year to sober up. Get my shit together. Be corporate ready.
And at this point, my cgpa is not so strong, my mind is all scattered and taken up hundreds and thousands of space with useless information like, what color dress should I wear to class tomorrow? 

My mind is like that chair we all have in our room, for piling up used, unwashed or sometimes washed clothes your mom tells you to fold up and put them in closet. The chair that stays piled up all week, maybe a month even. Rest of the room looks tidy, but that chair, oh god the chair. It hardly gets to pull its shit together.

The thing that depresses me more, is. It is only going to get harder. There is no break button, the time is ticking, soon I will have to make out something of me. The stakes are high, I am not sure if I can be what I am aspiring to be. 22 is confusing and scary.

I don't know what I am doing.





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"Because nothing makes me happier and nothing makes me sadder than you.”

“If I had a camera," I said, "I'd take a picture of you every day. That way I'd remember how you looked every single day of your life." "I look exactly the same." "No, you don't. You're changing all the time. Every day a tiny bit. If I could, I'd keep a record of it all." "If you're so smart, how did I change today?" "You got a fraction of a millimeter taller, for one thing. Your hair grew a fraction of a millimeter longer. And your breasts grew a fraction of a—" "They did not!" "Yes, they did." "Did NOT." "Did too." "What else, you big pig?" "You got a little happier and also a little sadder." "Meaning they cancel out each other, leaving me exactly the same." "Not at all. The fact that you got a little happier today doesn't change the fact that you also become a little sadder. Every day you become a little more of both, which me...