Embrace the mess:

Deleting Instagram, losing my mind

Sometimes I dream of leaving for good.

Holy shit, I’m 30

I was going to let the end of my twenties pass peacefully in the night… screw that.
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Glam girl

Nothing about that day made sense. It still doesn’t. It won’t.
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It’s beginning to look a lot like Covid

There are five days to Christmas and six days (maybe) left of my isolation
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