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Journal-84 Invalidated.

Date: 08.04.2022

Day: Friday

“Ugh y’all have no idea how hard my blood is boiling right now. I’m livid AF. Why can’t I make my own decisions? No, wrong question. Why am I NOT allowed to make my own decisions? Why does my mom have to assume that I am still incapable of getting to decide things for myself? Like honestly wtf? Does she think I am that extreme of a nincompoop that I don’t even know what clothes to pack for myself? Yo I’m twenty fucking one years. Bitch isn’t even permitted to decide what shirt to pack without her mommy’s approval. Why the hell am I still treated like a 10 year old? Why can’t I be treated my age? I’m 21 and can’t even decide what clothes go into my suitcase. Do you know how invalidated I feel right now. Like does my voice even matter? Am I not allowed to get a say in MY own petty stuffs? Sucks that I can’t give my opinion on such insignificant matters. Argh. My eyes are terribly welled up and I can’t even type now. I keep making typos. Ugh and my head hurts. So bad. Excruciating headache. Yeah, thanks for that now. Now I can’t even focus on this stupid economics test. FML for real!”

PS: LOL I just read this after a couple of months and realized I may have gone a tad overboard with my anger issues here. But hey, if my journal’s ain’t the place to vent, then I guess that defeats the whole purpose of journaling.

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