Promises are meant to be broken.

Hi! To anyone who stumbles upon this page.

I’ve started typing again and don’t know how long I’ll stick to a routine, in real I just felt like typing after reading my boyfriend’s blog.

I read my previous writings and actually expected them to be horrible but they aren’t,except few which I don’t understand What was I thinking?

I had actually tried maintaing a diary but failed  at that too.

I sometimes feel lost like I don’t know my purpose, isn’t everyone supposed to have one.Why is there a need to earn money? Why is there this system of buying stuff and creating happiness?Why couldn’t people just live without this differentiation or insecurities created by money?

I don’t know what I’m afraid of.Am I afraid of failing to live or failing to give my mother the joy of money?

But not everything is gloomy and depressing and I’m not even calling myself depressed, I have the people that matter the most to me around me so I have no reason to detest life.It’s just it can feel a little overwhelming at times.

I’ll end here my eyes have serious issues with me sitting in front of the computer.



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