Even Hansen

I keep telling myself that tomorrow will be different. That I'll wake up and suddenly know what to say, how to act, how to be someone people actually want around. But tomorrow comes, and I'm still just... me.

Maybe tomorrow won't be perfect. Maybe I'll still be scared, and maybe I'll still mess things up. But I think... I think I can try. And for once, I actually believe that might be enough.

I had something I wanted to say. I practised it, actually. A lot. But now that I'm standing here, I can't remember a single word. Which is fine. It's fine. I can just... start over. Sorry.