No

I am tired and hungry.

Why did I morph into someone like that?

Alright Joyce, continue to be angst, continue to wallow in self pity, continue to feel inferior, continue to be sad.

You know, I can continue to be all that, but I really, really, really can't continue pretending that I'm okay. It hurts so bad, that the slightest most remote thought about it makes me wanna curl up into a ball and cry.

Love,

Joyce.