I hate the saying, “broken crayons still color.”
Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they are just broken. Sometimes they are covered in all the colors around them that they are rendered useless.
I don’t know.
I am broken.
I feel like such a fraud applying to this graduate program. Like… I don’t know how I am going to write this essay. It’s going to be entirely crap.
Do I have imposter syndrome? Maybe. I don’t know that either.
I just know I feel far too broken to be of any use to anyone else. I can’t even help my friends.
This is so stupid.
If I don’t do this, I don’t know what I am going to do. There’s no future for me.
I am so lost and scared.
I hate this. I don’t know what to do.
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