Life is fundamentally meaningless and chaotic, and that everything that defines our existence was a product of random chance, thus making me exist here as an author was only a product of random chance, and I feel beyond blessed.

97's baby, with anxiety problem around new people, who enjoys a good talk and a good book but more about the book, thus making people around her claimed her as an introvert, but she refers herself as an idiot people intollerance. had a history with self harming (got my help already, praise my psychiatrist) and not ashame of it, because who doesn't have a problem with life?

if you want to be friends with me I'll appreciate it, like so much. c'mon be friends with me, i won't bite (hard), seriously, I won't