I see her in my mind, I feel her in my chest, I see her in the girls I watch passing by. The knots in my gut remind me of the all the time I've wasted just living off of my excuses. Half-assing a life, spending my days daydreaming of what I hope to become. Maybe magically I'd wake up one day and I'd be her. And I guess It's taken me until 23 and a really horrible year of being slapped upside my head to finally get moving. Get living. Get creating.
So here's a photo of 23 year old me. Full of regret for who she wished she already was. Hoping she'll get there before she's missed out too much or messed up yet again. Running through her days to create the life she knew she deserved. Trying to catch up to everybody else.
