A year went by so terrifyingly fast. My memory of the life events that had taken place get fuzzier each day. Like a photocopy of a photocopy, always in the process of dissolving.
Vague recollections told me that life has been gentle to me so far. Either it really has been or I've just learned to make my peace with all the struggles that I had to go through. Strongly leaning towards the latter even if the state of solitude that I've been on had made an optimist out of me. An optimist who cares a shit ton about what other people think of her but decided to just power through it all, one emotional fit at a time.
I guess life throws challenges at you to see what you're made of. And I realized that I'm made of determination, cigarettes,and fear of not living up to my parents' expectations. All of these traits make official for something we've long known for; I'm a rebel with a heart of a saint.
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