Sunday, July 1, 2018
I haven't written much in my
life besides college essays, love letters, and meeting minutes. Occasionally
I’ll toy with the syntax of an important email. I’ve started writing now because
of a situation that’s beyond my understanding. Before going to bed yesterday, my
roommate Charlotte handed me this journal, The Anti-Anxiety Notebook, along with
a note that read:
For your feelings. She said that she was exhausted and
unqualified to help me, then she laughed.
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