Just the way we all do, I am growing older and older. Am I becoming wiser? I am not sure. I am becoming more me though. If my depression taught me something, it is that I am okay the way I am. I am far from being perfect. I am not the most intelligent, the most interesting, the most beautiful woman on Earth, but I am unique and I am me.
My emotions take a strong hold on me. Too strong. I love too deeply. I don’t regret and I don’t hate.
Everyone looking at me sees someone different.
Today, I am 35,5 years old and holding on. I am breathing. I am existing. I am me.
reflections of an unquiet mind 
What more can we ask?
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