dear me

Dear Me,

You are super weird, you know that? You got so freaking stressed out about moving to teach first grade. First grade. You thought you were teaching hobbits before? These punks are tiny! What the hell were you thinking, getting so worried?

And then, you stinking bipolar wreck, you got all fine and confident a few hours before bed Sunday night. And you danced in front of the mirror cause you were all like, “yo, I got this!” Which was really embarrassing, and you brought up my paranoia about hidden cameras again. Punk.

So, for crying out loud, can’t you be normal? Can’t you have normal stresses and not these huge extremes of shaking tears and obnoxious over self-confidence? I swear, I’m taking you to a counselor as soon as I find one. I’ve had just about enough.

And must you insist on watching dramas so late when you know you have to get up early? Honestly. I just…just stop. You special snowflake you.

 

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