Why am I surrounded by people who don't share any of the same interests?
Why is it so hard for me to do anything I enjoy?
Why can't I find the time to finish a book? Writing or reading...
Why do I work a job I feel so despondent about?
Why don't I dress the way I really want?
Why don't I try all those things I've pinned on Pinterest (I'm not frigging Martha Stewart, but a lot of things are easily accomplished)?
Why do I feel so uptight all the time?
Why? Why? Why?
I could come up with answers for these questions. But they wouldn't be true answers. No, they would just be excuses. Because, really, the only thing holding me back is me. I wonder why that is...