The only people who question why I spend so much time in reflection are older people who are riddled with self-doubt after pushing aside their concerns for so long. I don’t want things to plague me for years, to build into something greater than my heart. I don’t want this all to be a terrible surprise I should have seen coming. Some things are worth addressing and working on and moving past. I can see why I do the things I do and I don’t want to keep doing them. That is not me worrying too much. That is not me being too old for my years. That is not me being a “downer,” a “weirdo,” a “pessimist.” That is me being fucking done with bullshit. Who says bullshit should infect? I don’t want to see where this bullshit leads. I know where it can lead and what I see for myself is something better than that. And I think others should see that for themselves, too. I can see that it is hard, that it leaves you raw, that it exposes the things that are difficult to name. But I can also see that the alternative is to let it stay there like a mark on your fullest, truest self. And that should not be the only resolution. There is a version of you that is waiting for this other one to be better.