In two days I turn 23. Two more days until I finish being 22. I accomplished a lot as a 22 year old. I made and published my first music project, got tattoos, learned more about myself than I ever have before. I'm slowly getting more comfortable in my skin, and I'm turning into the person that I always wanted to be. Truthfully, my life has only gotten better as I have gotten older. But birthdays never feel like a milestone for me.

I wonder sometimes if everyone feels like this, I imagine i'm not special. Every year, I can feel it closing in on me. I can't exactly put a pin in when it starts, but I feel the sword inching closer and closer to my head with each passing day. Things seem to get worse and worse, I find myself hating the way my flesh feels on my bones, my hair never fall quite right, my favourite clothes disgust me. I have these dreams that I can never remember but I always wake up in the middle of the night, crying.

I think part of it is I never expected to make it this far. Every year I am suprised I've kept going. I feel like I should be proud, but all I'm reminded of is the truth; that some things, no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I've grown, will never, ever change. I've had to accept that as I've grown older, and in day to day I am okay with that fact. But every year i can't help but wonder, how much longer will this go on? Can I really take this forever?

I'm so tired. After so many years, I'm worn down. Every year, on Februrary 14th, I can't help but fall to pieces. Each time I pray that maybe this year will be okay. I try spending it alone, with friends, family, or with someone I love. Some things help, and some things hinder, but that feeling never truly goes away. At the end, I always find myself in ribbons, staring at the blade inches from my eyes.

I'm watching the snow fall. Its supposed to be the biggest storm we've had in a while. If you're still reading, thank you.

see you around.