And now it chills me to the bone.

At some point last year, I was writing this...

"I'm sorry things didn't always work out the way I wanted. Sometimes they were alot better than i was expecting and sometimes a million times worse.
I'm sorry I never tell anyone that it hurts when it does and at the same time I'm proud of myself for not crying out loud till it bleeds. I am, as Freud wrote to princess Marie Bonaparte, " a small island of pain floating on an ocean of indifference." and this kept away even the most brave people, making me the unique connoisseur of myself.
I'd love to believe in soul mates, in sleeping next to someone without getting annoyed and in waking up in the morning next to them.... to believe I need only that, but now I know myself well enough to know that would never be enough.
At this point I already know what a sarcastic b$&?h I am and how exhausting everyone finds me. And I'm probably gonna get even more cynical than I already am.
The awareness of my own limits and the "nothing" my name is, makes my heart run from south to north, unable to choose.

Love,
Cristinnne.

P.S.: Many people survived when their brain stopped, but they all died when their heart ceased to beat."

And now I wonder... Can I actually change who I am? For my own good, of course. Would that make me better? Would I be able to write if I end up being some numb creature with no extremes? Should I try it on? See if it fits? What if everything I am is not actually me???
I can tell you this. I'm scared. I know I don't have anyone who would stay around me the way I stay around them, ready to catch them if they fall, and don't get me wrong, I'm totally cool with that, I wouldn't stay around me either. LOL. I'm fine and even my heart seems to get better now.
I refuse to be 23 and so fucked up. So now I have 25 days to fix myself.

Ah, and God, please give me some snow on my birthday!
(it always worked when I was a kid)

C xx