Find a life of your own.

Some time ago, I read a post about how as a woman, you are used to always see yourself from the inside and the outside. No matter what you are doing, you are always thinking about what you look like doing this gesture and what people might think if you say this or that and how this could come off as "bossy" or that as "being a prude".

I kind of forgot about it for a while but I recently started thinking about it again whenever I told myself "don't say/do this, or they will think you're annoying". Like, can you believe (and I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one out there) I constantly have this inner monologue going on, examining my every move and classifying everything as "annoying/too much" or "okay"? And I never even questioned it? Why is it the normalcy for women to talk themselves down all the time to appear "humble"?

Since we are little girls, we are taught that appearance matters. What other think of us matters. And I mean, that's not even just a female-specific thing, everyone of us is aware of how others see us. But I feel like we, as women, are told to prioritize the thoughts and feelings of others above our own. Apologize for taking up too much space. Don't speak your thoughts, or else you might scare them away. You're not worthy of love, you have to prove yourself to be worthy of it. Maybe it comes from the whole "the princess gets saved by the prince and that's it, you cannot do it yourself" thing. Like as if everything depends on being loved by someone, and if you don't have it, you live a miserable life.

Obviously, times are changing and there are more progressive movements nowadays. But I still feel like girls are told to shrink themselves to make men comfortable. We are supposed to blend into the background instead of being the center of attention, because otherwise we are needy and no one would want a woman like that.

Maybe I'm diving too much into philosophical questions here, and I sure cannot blame the patriarchy for all of my insecurities, but I feel like it helps to acknowledge that some of the self-destructing thoughts I'm having are influenced by how society sees or rather wants to see women. Whenever I'm telling myself I'm "annoying" or "too much", I stop and think about whether that is actually true or whether I have just been taught that being myself deserves no space in society. When I express my thoughts, and I'm later scolding myself for doing so for probably being "embarrassing", I try to tell myself I'm not, and that I am allowed to let people know how I feel. Whenever I am scared or moody, I allow myself to express those moods, to tell people I'm interacting with that this is what I'm feeling instead of swallowing my hurt down so as to not "burden" them with my feelings. Your feelings are never, EVER, a burden. No matter what your head tries to tell you. And if your loved ones try to tell you that, then they don't deserve to have you in their lives. Because the right people will understand you, or try to understand you. They won't leave you stranded just because of who you are. You do not have to be "mysterious" to seem appealing, you do not have to hide the beauty of your inner emotional world. Because it IS beautiful. I have come to learn that.

I deserve to take up space. I deserve to voice my opinion. I deserve to express my feelings and not have to justify them, because other people don't get to have a say in whether you should be hurt or not. If you are hurt, no rational reasoning why you shouldn't be can change that. I'm not too much, I'm an entire fucking universe and the people who are not ready to handle its beauty don't deserve a space in my life.

If you take anything away from this ramble/me expressing my muddled thoughts post, let it be this: Next time you are putting yourself down, ask yourself whether what you are saying is actually true, or whether it's just your attempt at trying to shrink yourself to make others more comfortable. Our inner monologue only remains a monster if we do not learn to turn it into a dialogue.

xxx Sarah

Welcome back to the annual round of my year recap! Honestly, so many things happened this year that it feels like I've been living three lives in one (funnily enough, that's what I wrote in last year's post as well) and I hope I can somehow narrow it down, I'll try my best!

My New Year's resolution last year was to lie less, but before I come back to that, here is my more detailed recap of the iconic 20biteen:

1) family
Sometime after my grandpa died, I told my mum, half-jokingly, half serious, that I feel like she never listens to anything I ever say and she actually apologized for it - yay! Other than that, I have grown closer to my family in some ways, and further distanced myself in other ways.

My dad's father passed away this May and now we're only "left with" my dad's mum and I've been trying to show her how much I like her, because I found myself regretting a lot of things when my other grandparents died. I also found out a LOT more about our family's history, like stuff my mum for some reason has never told me before (like my dad's parents love story or just like basically the whole abusive relationship my aunt used to be in).

I'm also an aunt now! And just so you know, my niece and my nephew are the cutest little babies to exist, not an ad just facts.

But the biggest aspect what concerns family this year was the fact that I (unfortunately) had to lie a lot. Mainly about attending pride parades or rather pretending I wasn't at them and also more recently about my girlfriend. I hate having to lie so much, but there simply was no way around that (though that may change next year, who knows).

2) friends
If you remember last year's post, I was pretty hurt over a long-term friend simply leaving. (I can't believe this actually happened this year, because it feels so long ago?? But) At the beginning of March, my French class from highschool met up and I saw her again. It was pretty weird for me, especially since she went right up to me and hugged me, as if she didn't make me feel miserable for months on end. But 2018 me was right, time and patience can heal a lot of things. And they did. I haven't actively thought about her for at least four months and honestly, I could care less about her. We don't hold onto the past when the present is so good, now, do we? ;)

I've had so many good times with my friends this year, it's honestly difficult to recall them all, but, as I said, I will try.

My best friend and I have grown even closer ever since I've first came out to her last year, but that feeling intensified this year when she found out she's not straight herself. Ever since then, we've had so many really deep conversations about stuff that we were usually reluctant to share and I'm just so grateful to have her in my life. She's also my biggest supporter when it comes to my sexuality and when she accidentally told her mum about me being bi, her mum said that if I ever choose to out myself in front of my parents, I can count on them in case my parents ever kick me out of the house or do anything similar to that. I will never not be grateful for the support of people, especially since I'm not getting it from my family.

I've also had so many fun times at concerts this year. Josy and I attended both a Maddy and a Troye Sivan concert at the beginning of this year and we honestly had so much fun together and I just adore being concert buddies with her. At the end of this year, we also attended another Maddy concert with Julia and it was one of the best nights ever. The two of them have also consistently had my back ever since they found out I'm bi and they actually held up my pride flag with me at Maddy's concert and it will forever mean so much too me, I don't think I can ever really put it into words.

Apart from that, I've also gotten to know so many incredible people on tumblr this year, people who have sent me the nicest messages and made me smile so often that I have to mention it here. Even though we never met: I love you. And thank you.

3) love
Boy, oh boy, this is where 20biteen really came through.

I ended last year's post by saying that I've become really close friends with my first girl crush but that it's okay the way it is. Up until approximately June that was true, but then things went a path I didn't foresee and actually never thought would happen. It started with us meeting up a lot, like so many times in a short span, and many moments that nearly led to me telling her I once had a crush on her. This then culminated in the middle of August, when she directly confronted me about it and I confessed it to her. Most suprprisingly, her response was that she thinks she used to have feelings for me as well (she had told me a couple of weeks earlier that she thinks she's bi, too). First, we joked it off like "haha timing sucks lmao, too late now anyways" (especially since she would leave for her year abroad in like two weeks) but then she really wanted to know if there was any spark left between us and this then resulted in my first kiss. Afterwards, we unanimously settled on the fact that the feelings have disappeared for both of us and that we're better off as friends but things got really awkward since then. At my birthday, we talked on the phone and she was incredibly rude to me and that was kind of the starting point when I realized how toxic whatever we had was. And I felt so used and ashamed, because I had let a person treat me like shit for two years on the premise that maybe, someday, I might be enough for her and she will like me back. And you don't even notice the damage that does to your mental health until you cut a person like that off and meet someone new.

Because that is what happened. Right after said phone call, I was so mad at my first girl crush, that I signed up for a dating app called HER, purely out of spite (she basically said I suck at all things love-related so that triggered my "I can totally do what you say I can't do" response). I didn't think it would go anywhere to be honest, especially considering the experience I had had with dating apps before. I also had a lowkey highkey crush on a (really hot) girl from an lgbt club at my uni so I was so caught up in that that anything ever happening just seemed completely unlikely to me.

However, one day, a girl swiped right on my picture on said app, and since she seemed to live pretty close by, I figured "why not give it a chance?", at this point just wanting to find more lgbt friends if I'm being honest. I still remember how we quickly got caught up in that usual "how are you?" basic stuff circle when one day she was like "okay let's skip this basic stuff, I hate it, here are some fun facts about me" and I remember thinking to myself that that's so cool, to meet someone who hates small talk as well but also is brave enough to just like bolt it out. What texting with her mostly taught me is that if someone really wants to get to know you, they will make an effort. That doesn't mean that you have to text every minute of every day, but that even if the conversation begins to fade out, the other person makes an effort to revive it. Because they've decided that they want to get to know you. And that was the strangest but also most thrilling feeling, knowing that someone is as invested in you as you are in them. Four weeks after we first messaged each other, we went on our first date (at this point I already liked her so much, especially since I found out that we are so similar in so many ways and since she even seems to get the ways in which we aren't, and does not judge me for it) and it was so magical that we totally forgot that time passed and ended up spending four hours just walking around town talking about our favorite childhood memories and our passions. I'll skip the in between because I don't want this post to get too long but on December 15, we officially became a couple and I'm honestly so happy. She makes my life so much better and it feels like, for the first time, I've met someone who I can trust and who cares about me and my personality more than looks or faces I put on in public.

4) general state of mind
I've actually been doing really, really good this year. I moved out in May, which was absolutely terrifying but benefitted my mental health so much because I didn't have to tiptoe around my parents anymore. I've got a job at book shop, which was also horrifying for me, like the whole process of having to call the store up, introducing myself, having a test day of work and all of that but it allowed me to grow so much and to become more comfortable in who I am. Of course there were hardships but I'm just really proud of how I handled them. And I genuinely think the best is yet to come. No matter what, I will persevere.

5) my favorite moments of 2019
I actually stuck with my resolution of making a list of all the happy moments of this year. Here are my favorite ones:

a) being at Josy's birthday party and singing our favorite songs for like one to two hours

b) attending Troye's concert and confidently screaming yes when he asked if "there are people in this room who are not straight", feeling so accepted for who I am

c) passing all of my first semester's exams with quite good marks!

d) moving out

e) attending my friend's prom and feeling confident, even despite meeting people who treated me like shit in highschool again

f) attending two pride parades, marching the streets while dancing to YMCA and running around with a free hugs sign and receiving so many heartfelt hugs that honestly made me feel whole again

g) getting a job

h) Lover being released

i) meeting my girlfriend<3

j) holding a pride flag with Josy&Julia at Maddy's concert

k) literally any time Taylor has liked any post of mine, especially the ones about my sexuality

So what is my resolution for 2020? 
First of all, I should probably answer the question whether I achieved my goal of lying less in 2019. I think when it comes to the truly important people in my life I did. And what that did was make my friendships even profonder and I'm never not grateful for that. I am lucky to have friends who genuinely care about my well-being and don't judge me, no matter what.

When it comes to 2020, I want to build up some self-confidence again. The toxic relationship I was in for so long really made all my insecurites come out again and I want to actively work on feeling better about myself again. I want to be more me than I have ever been, whatever that me is.

So that's it, I guess. Goodbye 20biteen, and hello new decade. I'm thrilled to find out what challenges but also what kind of amazing moments you'll have in store for me. See you soon.

xxx Sarah

The first time I ever came out was in a tumblr group chat. Well, it was not coming out per se, for I had just discovered that I might have feelings for this girl but I didn't know how to categorize them, so I just wrote a text about this situation, ending it with "does this mean that I'm... bi?". Thankfully, the people on there (if any of you read this - hi!!) were really helpful and supportive and just said I don't have to label myself, that I should just wait and see how my feelings towards this person evolve.

So I did. And they became stronger. So strong, that I figured it would be good to tell somebody I personally know. So I told this girl called Julia, which I had met that same year on tumblr and with whom I went to a concert a few months prior because it felt safe. She had only known me for a bit so it was less scary, I guess. I think I texted her something along the lines of "I might have feelings for a girl".

When I came out to my best friend over the phone, I still couldn't bring myself to actually say the words "I'm bi". Again, I just told her that I caught feelings for someone of the same sex but that was it. Even when I came out in person to what was my first girl crush, I still couldn't form the words. "I think I don't only like men" was what I said. I still vividly remember this because before that, I had been struggling to bring out the term "bisexual" for around fifteen minutes, until I eventually gave up and settled with this.

Why am I writing all of this when I practically already summed it up in my "how I knew I was bi" post? Well, because I have recently become aware of the fact how difficult it still is for me to out myself. Don't get me wrong, when I'm out with my friends, I practically throw in the word "bisexual" so often that you'd think labelling myself as such comes easy to me. But it's actually not. I'm still not out to the majority of people in my life. Yes, okay, for some I have valid reasons, but I think for the most part I'm just hesitant to them possibly, as a result, changing their view of me. Or maybe being a fraud after all, what if I'm straight and I imagined it all, then I would be another stereotypical bisexual who reinforces people's notion that bisexuals don't exist and are actually straight!! (to sum up my thought process)

This has become painfully aware to me when a few guys had flirted with me over the past few months. Afterwards, I always told my friends "this is so silly, I'm not interested in men at the moment anyways" and they were like "well just say you're only into women, who cares". Or how I thought about just sneakily and indirectly telling that dude from my photography class that I'm currently dating someone. Like, I'd just need to say something like "Oh, my girlfriend and I thought about going there, too!" (PSA that we're not girlfriends yet but she's the only one I'm interested in, alas, it is actually not that far from the truth) and last week I had the perfect opportunity to do so but I just. Didn't. I couldn't physically form the words "my girlfriend". Not only because they're not 100% accurate, but because that'd mean that there's one more person knowing about my secret, one more way my road back to "normality" is blocked.

And I know that's fucked up. I LOVE being gay, like I don't wish I could go back to when I thought I was straight. But I'm so terrified of people thinking of me differently because of something as actually unsignificant as my sexuality. And then I become obsessed with that thought and I mentally go through a list of people I know and think about how they would react and how they woud see me and judge me after knowing I'm bi and I just get so stuck. And I wish being proud of who I am would just come more naturally, you know. I don't know.

Maybe I just need to realize that it's okay to be scared, but it's even more important to keep going despite it. To find the happiness you've been searching for. I think.

xxx Sarah

Sometimes I feel like I'm two people in one.

One of them is out and proud. She doesn't give two shits about men trying to flirt with her. She wears her rainbow flag like a uniform that shields her from all the negativity in the world. She doesn't care who sees her holding the hand of the girl she's in love with and she certainly doesn't care about not being "the norm". She loves dressing up, wearing her smile like an accessory which protects her. She loves singing at the top of her lungs, no matter how bad she is at it (trust me, it's really bad) and she loves striking up conversations with strangers if she finds they have the same interests. She isn't afraid to show her emotions, she cries in front of others the same way she doesn't hold her laughter back. She speaks her mind and doesn't hold back on her worries for she knows that talking about them is the only way to get rid of them. Or at least lessen them. She doesn't care about her parents and the expectations of this world and she knows that she is loved. Oh, she's so incredibly loved. She doesn't question her kindness or her "realness" and she loves getting excited about kittens and puppies.

But then there's the other person. She's insecure. Really insecure. She's scared that the girl she's holding hands with might leave her when she finds out about the depths of her soul. She's scraed that she's just being played with again, that she's investing into something with no future, that she's investing more because she always does, and she always ends up being hurt again. Fear isn't her pet but her significant other she cannot let go of. She's scared of telling other people about her sexuality, she's scared that they will hate her for it and that she will end up all alone. As much as she wants to be with a girl, and as much as her vision of the future doesn't really hold a place for a man in terms of romantic relationships, she's scared of the judgement. She is terrified of not knowing whether the person that sees her kissing her crush will threaten to kill her just for being her. She is terrified of losing her family. Her friends say that she will have to choose her love life over it, and she knows that they are right, but still she cannot let go of her parents. She knows they exert a shitty influence over her life and her mental health but she cannot deny that she loves them. In her own twisted way. She's terrified of being homeless, of being cut off from money. Of never finding a job that helps paying her rent. She's scared of her friends finding new, better people to connect with and forgetting about her. She's scared that her fear will eventually eat her alive (if it hasn't yet). She wants to be out and proud, oh so desperately, but she knows it's just a farce, a game she's playing that couldn't be farther from the truth. She wants somebody to hold her and tell her it will all be alright. Despite it all. Despite it all.

These two versions of me are fighting. Girl one screams at girl two to stop being such a scaredy cat and to start owning up to her truth. Girl two starts crying, and sobs that her worries are way too big to just ignore. Girl one wants to comfort her but girl two is scared of people getting to close, of getting to comitted, or even worse, too dependent upon anyone else but herself. She likes isolation because she feels like this is what she deserves.

How do you unite two forces that rip each other apart?

Dear 13 year old me,
Hey there. I have pretended you don't exist for many years now. I have pretended that person wasn't me. And to be honest, I sometimes I still feel like it. But today I found a picture of you. And I felt this urge to tell you some things, things I wish you would've heard back then. No, this is not a lie or play pretend, I'm not ignoring your struggles. Please hear me out.

You were so innocent. Naive, some would say. Fuck that. I love your naivité, and I love your kindness and your big heart. Those are GOOD traits, not bad. No matter what the world tries to make you believe. But you got stomped all over and you are sad (in my opinion, you should've been angry, but that's okay, you never liked conflict. you still don't do - spoiler alert!). You think no one gets you and you think no one ever will. You listen to sad music to keep yourself afloat. You try to remember the good things but they seem to fade into background noise more and more. You think it's all your fault.

It was not, and IS NOT, you fault. You didn't do anything wrong. You protected a friend, you told the truth and that's all you could have done. And those people who don't believe you? They don't matter. They want something to gossip about. They want to find something wrong about you, because you have been kind to everyone and so your kindness must be fake, right? They make you feel as if you should be less. Less excitable. Less talkative. Less you. And so you cave. You think you are not worthy of people treating you with respect. You actually think you're not worthy of anything at all. And if you could, you would sink into the ground and never resurrect.

And I get that. I'm not ashamed of you for hiding, for just wishing it all away. I'm not ashamed of you becoming silent, because that was your way of dealing with your feelings. What I want to tell you is that IT'S OK. You shouldn't feel bad for feeling the way you do. Let those emotions wash over you. (one day, they will just be a distant memory, I promise)

You deserve the world. You always did. And people not seeing that is their mistake. But you will find friends that do. And they make the people who treated you like shit disappear. You won't even think of them anymore. You'll laugh at how petty they were while at the same time honoring your roots. This is your past, your story and you will slowly learn that you do not have to be quiet about it. You do not have to pretend it was okay, because "maybe I just make it worse than it actually was, like, others have it so much worse". Yeah, they might have it worse. But your experience is still valid. Scream the names of your bullies from the top of the world. You do not need to protect them. They should be held accountable for their actions because it. was. not. okay.

I also want to tell you that it gets better. It really does. The sunshine will slowly return to your life. It will be hard and you want to quit more often than you want to admit. But you have to pull through because the spring is worth it. Laughing with your best friends about being so sleep deprived you cannot even open a box of chocolates anymore is worth it. Going to your first concert and finding your home there is worth it. The feeling of being surrounded by your favorite people at your birthday is worth it. Running outside with your best friend because the first snow is filling the streets is worth it. Falling so utterly in love with a girl you can't even think straight is worth it (no matter what your parents tell you). Holding hands, hugging, music and the feeling of your favorite author publishing a new book is worth it. Getting out of school and finding out it's actually not as scary as you thought it would be is worth it. Being where you are, right now, is worth it. Despite it all.

If I could only tell you one thing, it would be this: I love you. So, so much. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner.

Yours,
19 year old you.

When I was 12 or 13, I was a pretty outgoing girl. I was fun to be around and I had a mental list of my favorite jokes to tell to new people I met. I loved wearing neon-colored clothing and I had just discovered what make-up was. I had also only recently moved to a new town with my family due to my father's job and even though I didn't feel a real connection with anyone at my new school, I felt pretty at easy with how things were.

When I was 12 or 13, I went to mess every Sunday. My father worked at the church next doors, which was connected to our home through a dark basement corridor, only blocked from our house through a small door we, however, kept open at nearly all times. At mess, there always was an extra program for the kids to which I went to until 2014 when I became to old for it. I had a friend at church, we'll call her Susan, and I always got excited when she was there for the mess, because that meant I could play with her during the kids program.

One specific Sunday, I think it was in winter, Susan was at mess and we talked and chilled as always. After mess, we stayed in the room where the kids program was held and just ran around or something, I don't really remember what exactly we did, but I do remember that we had a lot of fun. For some reason, there were deflated balloons lying around the place and we decided we wanted to inflate them, just for fun, you know. While we were doing this, a man from our church entered the room. He has a mental illness. Anyways, he entered the room and offered to help us with inflating them, he had a ball pump that would make it so easier and he'd go grab it. My friend and I already were uncomfortable. Maybe it was due to his mental illness, I don't know, or just the fact that a grown man interrupted two little girls playing.

He came back and we started inflating the balloons. Susan was still there so although I was extremely uncomfortable and would've liked to run away from the situation I was currently in, I told myself it's okay, Susan was here with me and it's also not okay of me to judge this man just because he has said mental illness. But then, after a while, Susan's mum showed up and said they were gonna go now, so Susan said goodbye to me and left. Left me alone with that man in that room. Now I was starting to get really scared. I wanted to leave. I tried to find reasons to leave. Reasonable reasons. I didn't want to say "I'm uncomfortable, I want to leave". I didn't want to make HIM uncomfortable. I also thought that maybe he wouldn't understand, he'd say it isn't a good enough reason.

I don't remember how it came to be. My mind is completely black between Susan leaving and the situation happening. All I remember is at one point, I was trying to inflate a balloon with the pump, but I was too weak, so he sat down on top of me. On top of my shoulders. And pushed me down. I was terrified. I wanted him to get off of me. I froze up. He kept sitting on top of me (I'll never forget this moment). My parents were upstairs. They wouldn't show up any time soon to pick me up. I felt helpless. And I felt ashamed of myself. For letting him do whatever he wants with me but also for already thinking I am a victim and what was happening was not okay. He has a mental illness, I told myself. That's just how he behaves. Accept it and move on.

Eventually I quietly told him some made up lie, about how I still need to get some homework done, and he let me leave. I ran up to our guest room and laid on the bed and immediately started crying. I couldn't comprehend what had happened to me. I didn't WANT him to touch me, that much I knew. But why did I then let it happen? Didn't I consent by not saying no? My mum came home after a while and I roughly told her about what had happened. She laughed and said I shouldn't worry, that that man has a mental illness and it's just the way he is, nothing to worry about. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to worry about. The mantra I have been telling myself for years.

The following Sunday, I was scared. When I left the room the week before, the man had said we could "repeat this next week". I was scared I would be alone with him in this room again. Helpless. I never left my mum's side that Sunday. And the following Sunday. And the following Sunday. And so on. To this day, I am terrified of going into our house's basement alone. I always think he'll somehow turn up. We'd be locked in this room again. And he'll touch me again, but this time not only the upper part of my body but everything.

Half a year after these events, I was walking home from school. I had a terrible day at school, people were calling me names and I was sad all the time. I saw two guys walking towards me, with a smug grin on their face. They were maybe two, maybe three years older than me. As soon as I saw them, I knew what would happen. I felt helpless. I ignored their stares, pretended I didn't exist, speeded up my pace so that it would be over soon and maybe then they would be quiet and wouldn't say anything but they did. "Hey, you lush hoe!". I froze up internally. I forced a smile. I walked past them. I pretended it never happened. Again. It's a compliment, I told myself. You should feel honored. Or they're just dumb and it's stupid you're getting upset over such a small thing again. This is how it is supposed to be.

This is how it's supposed to be, is what I told myself many more years. I repeated it like a mantra every Sunday when I was at mess, and I saw that man, and he stared at me lustily (he still does. every Sunday. it never ends.). I told myself it's normal to be anxious when random men were walking past me on the street, looking at me greedily, and I thought maybe they would touch me the way he did, because men can take whatever they want and leave and that's just the way it is.

Then I suppressed it. Until like a year ago. When I read sexual harrassment stories, that event never even came to my mind. Never. And then it did again when Taylor Swift's sexual assault case was a big topic. And #metoo. But I shrugged it off. All he did was to sit atop of me, and he has a mental illness after all, I said to myself. My mum was probably right and it is not a big deal, I'm blowing things out of proportion, it's not worth sharing, I'm taking away the light from REAL survivors of sexual assault. I should just shut up about it.

But the thing is, I cannot shut up about it anymore. I cannot shut up about it when that situation still impacts my mental health. I cannot shut up about it when I still think every man I meet will eventually assault me. That's just how men are. Boys will be boys. I cannot shut up about it when it has impaired every chance at a romantic relationship with any man ever. Because after a short while I got scared, I thought they would touch me against my will like that man did, since all I was taught was that my body was an object I had not control over. I cannot shut up about it when it has made me choose horrible men to fall in love with because I thought their shitty treatment of me was all I deserved. I cannot shut up about it anymore. I don't have the energy to keep quiet anymore. I cannot. I simply can't.

When I was 12 or 13, the world I was living in was maybe naive, but I wish I could turn back time and prevent it all from happening. Somehow. I don't know.

Just trying to find a life of my own I guess.

xxx Sarah