February was easily the worst month of my entire life. I moved in with my love, and on the 9th my overexertion finally caught up with me: burnt out, without even enough energy to sleep. Then she left on Valentines Day, and I had no where else to go, so I had to return home.

“It is so hard to think of good things about myself when I so constantly put myself down.” Hard times forced me to express necessary personal revelations, obvious things like self-love and self-worth that I had always been too afraid to embrace. I was honest with myself for the first time about these deep issues, and I grew a lot in the two weeks I had to myself before I retuned home.

I had grown up too fast (and forced myself to), so I never enjoyed my childhood or let myself have the fun I wanted, always so critical and cynical. My exgirlfriend had so many issues that she imposed upon me, so once I sorted through those, I was able to work on the ones I had held inside since I was eight. My emotions were up and down as if I bought a season pass to some psychological amusement park.

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