Often times I find myself in pure disdain for the world, the cultures I find myself surrounded by, and my own negligence to my mental and physical health. Nothing feels quite worth moving on and I feel so unloved at the end of the day.
Other times I feel an intense love and interest in how life can be so wonderful, wonderful people, sights, music, stories, how much I love that I am still carrying on, and how I love myself.
I think I talk to much in either mood and it bothers the people around me, but I think it’s good that I can talk that much when I used to never speak my mind. It’s sort of confusing and I still don’t fully get how I feel, but I think I’m doing things right, I don’t feel as hurt as I used to.