the years between eighteen and twenty-eight are the hardest, psychologically. it’s then you realize this is make or break, you no longer have the excuse of youth, and it is time to become an adult – but you are not ready.
I have this demon who wants me to run away screaming if I am going to be flawed, fallible. It wants me to think I’m so good I must be perfect. Or nothing. I am, on the contrary, something: a being who gets tired, has shyness to fight, has more trouble than most facing people easily.