We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.
i just wanna say to all my friends n loved ones that might check out my sick ass blog and to anyone that might need to hear it..
the bad feelings u might be feeling… fade away in time. everything gets better in time, fuck everything else you just gotta trust that.