If you can’t focus then how do you expect to make your dreams come true?
Give me rampant intellectualism as a coping mechanism.
For me, writing is a kind of coping mechanism.
There’s the parent you want and the parent you have.
When confronted with challenge,I discover my inner strength.
Perhaps gratitude and love are one and the same.
Pain moves us forward, changing us into something else, something we need to be.
If you aren’t in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?
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