Never wanted to be a sad person. And I guess narcissists never thought about becoming one.

“I never said that.” “Do you always have to be so sensitive?” “I promise I’ll change, I’ll be better.”

But somehow, we all end up stuck in some dark places in our lives that we don’t want to be in. Choosing to survive the next day instead of living it, waking up feeling the same exhaustion we felt when we were falling asleep.

And it’s all for what? For the pattern to repeat itself?

Waking up. Scrolling through the messages. Not having an appetite to eat anything. The knot in your stomach only tightening. Ignore the comment about your weight. Ignore when they say you’re too lazy to do anything, that you never care.

You roll your eyes.

But you do it internally, after learning your lesson.

You sit. You’re still. You think – maybe the day won’t be that bad – but then another person is trying to pick a fight with you, and you ignore it, knowing better than to react. The tantrum ends, and you’re best mates again.

It all happened right next to you.

It’s better that way.

The person doesn’t seem to realize they’ve done anything wrong.

You don’t confront them. You already know they’re going to deny it anyway.

Sometimes I get angry at myself. I guess today is one of those days, because despite the rational part of me that tells me how to go through my days without hesitation, without anxiety eating me alive, without overthinking every step I take, there are still situations that drag me down into the same hole I just climbed out of.

Because maybe she didn’t mean what she said. Because maybe this time it’ll be different with him.

See, that’s how it always fucking starts.

Whether it’s a friend, a partner – basically anyone.

Trusting in the good intentions of people who are going to screw us over at the end of the day.

Cause what are you going to say? That you have a hunch? A gut feeling?

Dear diary, my best friend hasn’t spoken to me in three days now. She knows the silent treatment triggers me – but what if she found out she has some incurable disease, and that’s why she’s only silent with me and giggly with everybody else.

So you choose to let it slide once again – good intentions, in your already broken heart – only to get dragged again into a never-ending loop of manipulation.

Am I being too harsh? Probably. Am I fucking tired of others being cruel to me? You still have to ask?

It’s not about treating everyone with deep mistrust, being rude and cruel to others.

It’s about staying firm on your ground, without moving a fucking inch, when somebody crosses the line you’ve drawn.

Because I believe there are loads of good people out there – but you don’t have to walk into a dark alley in a shady neighborhood to meet people who won’t hesitate to ruin you.

I heard somewhere that you shouldn’t look at other people through your own lens. I agree with that. But we usually apply it only to judging someone, when the idea is actually much wider.

Because why on earth would you assume the other person won’t hurt you just because you wouldn’t hurt them? That person isn’t you.

And while you’re standing there hoping they’ll find an ounce of good and moral values in them, they’re already spreading rumors about you.

For fuck’s sake.

You know what I heard when I confronted someone about talking behind my back?

Something along the lines of: Writing to her was more of a way to vent my emotions - I wasn’t badmouthing you; in fact, she took a neutral stance on the matter, if you really want to know. I didn’t talk to anyone about you until I heard and saw you badmouthing me to people outside our circle.

Was I talking behind her back? Nope.

Because they don’t look at you through your view, only their own.

So, knowing what they themselves would do in that situation, they automatically assume you’re going to do the same. And the loop never ends.

The funniest thing – and the most fucked-up one, in my opinion – is the justification.

Oh, how I love the “she would’ve done it first, so to protect my reputation, I had to ruin hers first.”

Because one moment you can have a falling-out with someone close to you and hope that, despite everything, it stays between the two of you – and the next moment, you’re walking into school or work feeling everyone’s eyes on you.

And when you react – you’re called the crazy one. “Oh look at her, she snapped.”

Even though I always try to believe people have good intentions toward me, I’ve learned the hard way, too many times, not to take that for granted.

I’m just going to say screw them, and keep going, and never hesitate to stand up for yourself when they’re crossing the line.

With love,

Kara🩵

I grew up as a first child that got outshined.

On every family dinner I had to hear how special my brother is. How smart he is for his age - how he won a contest no one could even understand. I got fewer points than him. But that doesn’t matter, does it?

I sit in my room and try to draw. It’s nothing special - I just do it for fun. But when my excitement grows and I wonder what my parents’ reaction would be, I hear happy voices from behind the wall.

I look at my drawing feeling a bit weird.

My brother learned to read not so long ago. He’s more than a year younger - and he’s already better than me.

A little sob escapes my throat.

I feel the pain I should not feel. This moment of hatred that was born in me.

It’s not like I’m jealous. Because I’m not. Why is everybody accusing me of doing so? It’s just this heavy feeling in my chest - this need to be appreciated. To be praised.

I broke the crayon I was holding in my hand. I can feel the splinters dig into my hand. It was the new one - in the nice shade of green. I feel sad now and I’m angry at me.

I look through my window at the sky.

The moon was beautiful tonight. I miss its silver light. But who would choose the moon, knowing so well it’s only a reflection of the sun - just some kind of a rock without its own way to shine.

Standing in the shadow of someone who shines so bright, trying to convince yourself you can shine as hard. But you can’t.

The shadows became my home. I learned how to function with them. I didn’t come to love them - but why, when they were always only mine. They probably hate me now for doing so, for not choosing them and missing the sun.

I close my eyes.

We go to the same class despite the age. It’s not like I have bad grades but somehow it feels like I could do better than that.

That if only I put more time I would be great and my work would be rated as high.

Can you please teach me math - they ask him again and again. Later that night, sitting alone and trying not to care, I hear my phone ring - it’s my classmate. I wonder why he calls me and if I’m the one he’s trying to reach.

The knot in my stomach tightens as the excitement grows.

I can feel the hope forming - I can feel it in my bones.

I answer while holding my breath.

He says - hey Kara, what’s up? Do you have your brother near? He’s not picking up and I have something to ask.

Then, with a silent sound of resignation, I go - hand the phone to him and try to let go of the hatred in my heart.

Why am I never good enough?

They never call to talk to me - is there really nothing interesting in me?

I sank deeper into my thoughts. I chose to not say too many words. To become quiet and try to survive. They don’t like me anyway - so why would I try.

Later, as the years pass by - nothing really changes. I just learned how to act. I chose to silence every attempt at comparison - some days it doesn’t hurt, some days it hurts a bit more.

I tried not to take those things too personally. The fact that there was always someone better than me, that even on my best days I was not good enough to be appreciated.

It’s not a big deal - they told me so. I don’t have a favorite child, why are you accusing me of doing so.

No one ever asked if that’s jealousy or just a response to neglect. It’s easy to judge. It’s harder to try to understand.

I don’t think I can ever forget the fact that, for reasons I still can’t understand, I was never the chosen one.

Maybe the moon was never supposed to compete with the sun. Maybe it was enough that it knew how to shine in the dark.

With love,
Kara 🩵

, this one is for you

As a little girl, all I could think of was that if I was a truly good person, life would reciprocate in kind.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Growing up, all I could see was young people surrounding me who were truly mean – who were hurting others – getting away with everything, with no consequence for their behavior.

After I won the class president election in fourth grade of primary school, I walked out of the classroom into the hallway only to be pushed against the wall behind me.

Shocked and out of breath, all I could do was stand there and do nothing.

Do nothing, while three boys – my classmates – stood before me with cruelty painted all over their faces.

One of them, who had also run for the role, suddenly grabbed my neck and, with the strong hold of his hands, started choking me.

The rest of the boys only laughed at me, called me names, said I didn’t deserve the role I’d just won by a majority of votes.

The hold of his hands only got stronger, and I was too stunned to do anything.

Then I heard a girl crying because of what was happening. The boys let go, but the whole scene was suddenly not about me anymore – it was about the crying girl.

She became the victim in this whole mess, while I was left unnoticed, and right there, something in me cracked irreversibly.

The boys who choked me and pushed me against the wall were never punished, and because of one of their mothers, I was the one who got blamed.

There was a side of me constantly asking where the fuck is the justice in that – how those nasty people, despite what they did, got everything I was dreaming of.

Then I realized maybe reality isn’t how I see and perceive it. Maybe there’s more to it that needs to be understood.

Not long ago, I heard an older woman say that good people’s lives are harder, because why would the devil bother making life miserable for people who are already bad.

That sentence kind of stayed with me, but somehow it gave me even more questions.

That was not the answer I wanted to hear.

Because after being used again – after someone very close to me tried to completely ostracize me from our community and shift the narrative about me – I was finally done.

Done with repeating the same patterns, with being too afraid to say a fucking word to people who, for fuck’s sake, were only testing how much of their shit I could handle.

I can handle fucking none.

It is not about being good in the moral sense of the word. It’s about having fucking boundaries and self-respect.

I would ask my younger self about all of this.

Do you think I was a good person when I let all those people walk all over me and then blamed me for not being enough? Do you really think that’s what being a good person looks like?

I don’t think so.

So why are you doing that to yourself, and justifying it with not wanting to hurt anyone?

But you did. You hurt the most important person in your life – you.

YOU.

I wish I could say that to little me, and give her the courage to stand up for herself. Because you know what you’re left with afterward, once you finally realize what they’ve done – what you let them do.

Anger. A lot of hot, unstoppable anger.

Because you can’t turn back time. There’s nothing you can do now about what happened.

So many times, I’ve wished I’d had the courage back then, the will to fight back, when they pushed me against that fucking wall.

I accept what happened. I accept that I wasn’t strong enough then. But with this acceptance comes the assurance that I will never do that to myself again.

I’m not afraid to cut toxic people off. I’m not scared to be seen as the bad one – the villain of someone else’s story.

Why would I care, when I know I’m not the villain in my own? I would be if I let those people stay. Cutting them off won’t hurt me again, so why bother thinking about what they’re saying behind my back at all.

I’m tired of letting others do shit to us just because we have faith they’ll finally stop – that they’ll change. They fucking won’t.

And yes, maybe the devil hunts good people harder, but that doesn’t mean we owe him our comfort by letting him make our lives hell.

Good people must choose themselves, because if they don’t, no one else definitely will.

So, this is me, choosing myself.

Finally.

With love,

Kara🩵

This is the fifth time that the world has felt heavy this week, and it’s only Monday morning. I get up wondering how it is possible that I’m still able to do that – I feel so powerless – and then I look in the mirror, almost not recognizing myself.

I couldn’t sleep that night. I feel like my head was constantly buzzing with a million thoughts I cannot remember now, and there was this fear that my hair is oily and I cannot have oily hair. I touch it and shit – it is oily indeed.

Suddenly I become so nervous and I panic because I cannot go out looking like that, so I run to the bathroom and, though it’s so cold outside, I need to wash my hair – there is no other way.

Everything is so messy, the view becomes a bit blurred and the heat is unbearable. Everything feels too hot, too close. The water with shampoo gets into my eyes and it hurts so much. I can feel every fiber on my skin and then I hear a loud noise because some bath wash hits the floor.

I’m so tired and I need to go; I need to go to school. Fuck. I rush. My makeup looks awful and my face is swollen. I can’t find anything to wear so I pick up some random hoodie and I force myself to not look in the mirror in the hallway, knowing damn well I look like hell.

I sit in the backseat of my father’s car and I try to calm myself down. I don’t know why I am feeling this way, I don’t know why I am so tired all the time. I check my phone and there is still no message from my best friend, who hasn’t been answering me for a few days while being active in a group chat.

My head starts to hurt and I can feel a bad headache coming.

I arrive at school and, with fast pace, I walk through the hallways looking at my feet instead of people who I know damn well are looking at me. I can see my best friend sitting there with our other friends.

I don’t know where this bad mood is coming from, I don’t know why I feel like I’m about to suffocate. I have friends, people like me, I am not sitting alone like before. So why can’t I be happy? Why do I feel this fear constantly? My eyes start to burn and I feel like the temperature has risen.

I walk up, say hi, and chit-chat for a bit, but this knot in my stomach only tightens more because my bestie is being cold and harsh and I still don’t know why and what I have done wrong. She is speaking normally to everyone; everyone accepts me. Fuck my life. My nails dig into my palm and I try to stay calm and not show any emotion on my face.

When the bell rings, we sit in our seats. She is still not talking to me and I cannot focus on the lesson because I’m too busy analyzing every last interaction we had. I think and I think, my head hurts, my eyes water, I hear ringing in my ears and I can’t stand this silence anymore, so I ask:
“Is everything alright?”

For one heartbeat she doesn’t answer and then, still not looking at me, she just nods.

I think I’m about to throw up. It is not the first situation like this, but it somehow feels even worse than before. In the past she always said she was sorry that she was in a bad mood, that people make her tired, but she knew so damn well that hot and cold behavior and silent treatment are my biggest triggers, my biggest weak spots, and she still uses them on me.

Suddenly I feel a spark of anger. The emotion surprises me because I haven’t felt it for a while. I’m so mad at myself that my whole mood depends on her. Somewhere deep inside me I know I should set a boundary, I should put myself first. But when the anger fades away, I’m left more drained than before, wishing I could just go home.

The whole day I can see her all bubbly and smiling with others. Her laugh is so loud and I am left there thinking what I have done wrong. Was I too much? Were my problems too serious? Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that much about my past. I wonder and I wonder. Somehow, I can’t let it go. “It’s going to be okay,” I try to reassure myself, but it’s not working.

Finally, when I’m home, I can cry – just not too much – and when my parents ask, I just lie that I’m tired because of school and how much studying I have to do.

Tomorrow is going to be okay, I try to tell myself. Little do I know it’s going to be exactly the same.

Years later, when I remind myself how every single day looked, I wonder how I could go through it.

I want to go and tell my younger self – hey Kara, you’re worth enough not to be silenced and treated like that. That despite what you think, you’re not the problem, but the person you trusted knew your fears and still kept touching the wounds they created.

Back then, when it was all happening, I would have told you guys with a straight face that I was the problem in this whole mess.

Now, however, looking at it, I would say that the problem was not even my ex-best friend, but the fact that I built my entire emotional state around whether one person chose me that day.

I keep thinking about that girl in the backseat, checking her phone for a message that wasn’t coming.

I wish I could tell her it was never her fault. That some people don’t go quiet because you did something wrong - they go quiet because they know it will hurt you, and somewhere, that’s the point.

She didn’t know that yet. I’m telling you now.

With love,
Kara🩵

Considering yourself a very emotional and sensitive person and then hearing your closest person say, after you crash out so hard, that they are relieved you still have feelings because they thought you were emotionless for a while is honestly so fucked up.

Consider yourself warned that this article in fact will be no less raw.

If you’ve ever felt so lonely while being surrounded by people who were supposed to always be there for you, you’ll understand that this loneliness often comes from being misunderstood to the point where you and the person they have in mind are so damn different that it feels like they’ve never met you before.

Because no matter how hard you try, there is no willingness in them to actually listen and hear you. YOU. Not the version they have in mind, but the real you who’s so pathetically desperate to be noticed. And by the time you’re standing before a crucial decision whether to leave them, there’s this voice inside you screaming that they never really knew you, that maybe you didn’t, in fact, let them.

Subscribe now

This sadness, this swallowing sadness inside you, begs to be freed. It wants to try one more time, to speak to their senses, hoping that maybe this time they’ll let go of their made-up vision of you. That maybe they’ll hear something in what you say or see something in what you do that will finally break the glasses through which they’ve always looked at you.

When that doesn’t help, you panic. So you try harder and harder, while actually just reassuring them in what they already think. The worst and most painful part of it is that this sadness, panic, and desperation is your inner child begging you not to let go of them - that there is still hope they’ll try. Try to get to know you.

I wrote an article before:

about doubting your own perspective.

Getting to know yourself while being surrounded by people who constantly tell you who you are and who you should be is pretty much impossible. Because not only is there no willingness in them to see you for who you truly are, but somehow you’re never enough. No matter what you do or how much you change to suit their expectations, it will never be good enough, and completely normal things become massive problems and reasons for conflict.

Letting go of this need to be accepted by the people closest to you is fucking hard. It’s painful and feels extremely wrong. But what I know for certain is that constantly trying to prove yourself to people who are never willing to see you is pointless - no matter how harsh that sounds.

You are not responsible for what people choose to see in you. You never were.

With love,

Kara🩵

Have you ever wondered if you’re actually the one who is constantly wrong? We tend to live within a certain narrative. The perspective we have always comes from within us, so how can we be sure it isn’t the wrong one?

Hypothetically, let’s say that considering yourself a victim was the wrong way of looking at things and that, in reality, you were the one who created all the drama. Pretty scary perspective, isn’t it? Going further, what if every single relationship fallout was a clear sign that you’re the problem, even though you claim otherwise?

It is hard to keep a sane mind when you constantly get mixed signals. Sometimes it feels like your head is about to explode, like your whole identity is fake and you’re living in some made-up imaginary world.

What makes me feel the worst about it is when people undermine your entire perspective. More precisely, situations where you have to constantly prove and explain that something actually hurt you, only for it to still end up feeling like you’re the fucking problem. That can really mess with your head.

As a person who was always doubted, always blamed for every problem, and always asked first whether I had done something to provoke a certain situation, not feeling like I have a stable identity is a daily experience.

Okay, to keep a long story short: what are the chances that everyone around you is wrong, but you’re the one who is right? There are no logical chances, right? And that’s how the overthinker was born.

The main issue I have while trying to get my shit together and move on without looking backwards is constantly doubting myself, my perspective, and my belief system.

Subscribe now

I struggle so much to rationalize things that happen on a daily basis. I consider myself an overthinker. But who the fuck is an overthinker? We use this term so damn much, and it makes me angry. More than half of society now claims to overthink everything, but I highly doubt that, because many things simply wouldn’t happen if that were true.

Being an overthinker is such a curse, guys, and I don’t think it comes naturally to a person. Don’t get me wrong - some people do tend to think a bit more about things than others, but that certainly isn’t overthinking. The paragraphs above are a perfect example of what it can look like. Constantly replaying situations in your head, with forgetting even the smallest detail not being an option, because what if that was the moment you made a huge mistake that could influence your entire future?

The feeling that your mind is completely full happens often. It is well known that our conscious mind has limits, so imagine how much energy it costs a person to always be prepared with memories and pre-created scenarios of what might happen next.

I strongly believe that overthinking is a trauma response. It happens when you’ve always needed to stay one step ahead of others. When, in order to survive, you had to learn how to read the room - every emotion, every shift in tone, every sign of tension in people’s movements.

The thing is, later in life, when everything becomes more stable, you still do that. You overanalyse every change in other people’s moods, even when there is no reason to do so.

If you feel someone’s distance, you analyse every interaction you’ve had with that person, trying to figure out what could possibly explain it. You take the blame upon yourself, even though the chances that you actually did something wrong are low.

When someone hurts you, instead of being angry and letting them go, you distance yourself but still check whether they are okay, whether they haven’t hurt themselves, or whether their heart didn’t suddenly stop because of something you did. Your action - you read that right. Because even when you’re the one who was hurt, you’ll still consider the possibility that some part of it was your fault.

I don’t think people talk enough about how hard this actually is. People tend to say, “Just don’t give a fuck and move on.” Well, cool advice. I’d love that too. I just don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to do it.

Self-help books about how to change. Hundreds of videos on how to become a better person. Content about manipulation, then content about how to be a good friend. Am I an empath? How do I spot a narcissist?

Why is there always this need to become someone else?

Overthinking, I strongly believe, is often just the result of past experiences.

I just wanted to show you how some people’s minds can work and how difficult it can be. That’s why this text is written in such a personal way. I hope you took something from it, and if you saw yourself in any part of it, please know that you’re not alone.

With love,

Kara🩵

When I was young, I loved creative things. I was drawing, dancing, singing, playing the piano. I was involved in plenty of projects at school and won a few contests. I miss that little girl who didn’t give a shit about being perfect.

I grew up thinking that my sister was a perfectionist because she always had her room clean and cared about the highest scores in school. I grew up thinking my mum was a perfectionist because she always cared about having the house so clean as if the president was coming to check whether the floors were shining.

See, the point is that I was always considered different. Like a black sheep of my family. And I believed that. I mean, I felt that way. I didn’t need to have the highest scores or the best grades; I didn’t care about competing and trying to constantly prove myself. I just placed myself in a worse position than the people around me and I kept doing my shit.

Then I realized the eye I was sketching was absolutely horrible. I mean, I remember looking at it and thinking: what the hell is that? That’s not an eye. So, I decided I needed to watch tutorials, buy recommended products, read books about drawing, get a graphic tablet, and all that crap that, at the end of the day, was useless. Sorry for the spoiler.

Subscribe now

I was so engaged in finding a way to become a top-tier artist that I forgot what drawing was really about. Day after day, I started to hate doing it. I stopped trying, stopped drawing. I knew I was never going to be the perfect artist and my work would never be as good as the ones I saw online. I was just a kid.

Then there was the piano. My sister was always better than me. She played songs my mom liked and meanwhile I didn’t even bother to choose one I would like to play. It’s hard to describe: it wasn’t like anyone took away my chance to choose; I just didn’t care enough to try. Years later, when I stopped taking piano lessons, I found myself enjoying it the way I had at the very beginning, but the feeling that I lacked skills made me feel like I couldn’t play it because I wasn’t good at it.

Those situations and plenty of others made me realize that you don’t have to care obsessively about clean spaces to call yourself a perfectionist. It’s not always the need to be in control all the time, to be in charge of everything. I realized that this fear that took all the pleasure from doing things I used to love has a name. That, despite what people said about me, I was and still am a victim of perfectionism.

The biggest problem is that you cannot learn something unless you try and try again after you fail for the first time. It is mainly about losing and getting up again. You see, when you don’t even try to do something in the first place because you think you’re either not good enough, or you don’t have the skills to do it, or you just fear losing and failing, you’re never going to gain any experience. Because experience comes from practice, not just from theory.

I’ve made this text so personal because I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of this need to be perfect and not attempting to do something I’m dreaming of doing. It’s honestly so exhausting. I have so many dreams and goals, and something inside me is always stopping me. I tend to look at others and I hear this voice in my head telling me that I could never be like them.

People say that to overcome this, you just need to get up and do your thing without overthinking it. As simple as that. That is probably true, you know. I wouldn’t dismiss it. But this text is not about giving you advice on how to change it. I just wanted to show you that you’re not alone in this. Maybe you will find yourself here and, if so, I just want you to know that you’re really not alone and that it’s okay to feel this way. I tend to be harsh on myself because of it, but we need to learn how to take care of this side of ourselves and how to keep moving forward.

With love,

Kara

This post is part of the "Teenage Diary" series 🩵

Time to live is called spare time, time that is rarely left after we are done doing chores that don’t even bring us joy.

I came home today and as always left my bag on the floor looking at my unmade bed thinking how good it would be to just lie on it and forget. I took my phone and went through messages from brands I didn’t even recognize and realized that no friends had tried to contact me. I don’t have friends – I reminded myself.

I switched to Instagram and saw people I barely knew living my dream reality, I became sad, jealous, angry and suddenly I was drained. I saw no point in standing up, cleaning my space, prepare myself a proper meal and do something productive. My heart sank with guilt, but I pushed it back down. I scrolled, saw perfect people with perfect gardens, the cutest couples with so much love in their eyes that mine got teary. I hated them, hated the world – my life, my shitty life and useless existence.

Then when I was stuck in my head, I felt the need to switch apps so I chose YouTube. I clicked on self-development video and suddenly felt productive for a minute or two. The urge to change my life was so big. For a moment I had a plan in my head on how to improve, become more beautiful, more popular, better – different. I watched two whole films and then fell asleep.

People are now paying for AI miniseries on Tik Tok and you still wonder why so many people will find themselves in text above. Awareness doesn’t change anything except the guilt you feel. Taking actions feels just too damn hard but it is the key to changing reality. I don’t critic self-help materials that we see a lot on social media these days. The knowledge in them is usually great and would be helpful for those who try to put learned things into their own life.

Udostępnij

Time feels like it passes faster than ever. I agree. Though conspiracy theories about it are dramatically overcomplicated and meanwhile the answer is super simple. Remember times when you were in primary school. No phones allowed, only books, people next to you and knowledge waiting for you to finally find it. Now remind yourself of your least favorite subject and the most boring lesson. The feeling that time slowed down so much was almost touchable like every minute was an eternity.

Now remind yourself of the most exciting lesson. I don’t need to be you to know that you wished for it to be longer because you didn’t even notice when it ended. It’s the same these days but we do not get to be bored even for a while. We always carry our phones with us. When we sit in the bus we scroll or put on some music to pass time. When the lesson is boring, we play some online games. We constantly need to do something and then we wonder why time feels like it has fewer hours. I know that feeling. I am a prisoner of it.

So, the next time you’re going to make some excuse about having no time to do something you dream of, check your screen time and remember why your time is gone. I’m going to do the same and I will give you an update on how it is going.

Honestly, this text is kind of a first step to stop consuming so much content and create it instead. I really hope you took something from it and remember, it is okay to feel stuck but consuming another article/video/reel about how to not be stuck and feel better will do nothing without you taking matters into your own hands. I know it feels like the time is not right but let me tell you a secret: you are never going to feel ready and truthfully the moment that you came up with a plan or even the idea was the moment you were actually ready to take real action but perfectionism and fear stopped you. Make them look in your mind like a face of the person who has always doubted you or bullied you and then finally kick their ass.

With love, Kara