I sit here, relinquishing my last moments of being 18, knowing that when I will turn 19 by the time I hit publish. But it doesn't feel like anything will change. I'm still me, my problems are still here, nothing will change.

These few days have been dark for me. The insecurities, the anxiety, the fears, the tears. I cry, I scream, I hurt myself. But it doesn't help. It never helps.

Now it feels like I will never escape. How can I run away from something that's residing in me? How can I fight the demons that's eating me up?

Maybe I'll find those answers soon.

Happy 19th birthday, Regine.