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11 Perfect Confessions Of An Imperfect 23-Year-Old

11 Perfect Confessions Of An Imperfect 23-Year-Old

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Every time I eat a sandwich, I “accidentally” drop my favourite part of the filling out of it. Well, I just enjoy things better when I know the taste of its end. 

I am a book, open enough for you to read but deep enough for you to not be able to read between the lines and that’s exactly how I like it. 

I almost always misjudge how many layers of clothing the weather calls for. I end up playing it way too safe or taking too much risk. I am still learning balance and my sweat and goosebumps keep reminding me of that. 

I walk like a penguin, stretching my feet way too much. I don’t understand how much is enough and will always end up doing more than it’s needed.

Every time I feel low, I binge watch food videos and 25-30 videos down the line, I find recipe to getting back up and creating warm happiness. I think, I know what works for me and I can always find a way out. 

I am adult enough to have tasted all emotions and feelings but I don’t know what ‘jealously’ tastes like. Well, the teetotaller I am, finds harmony in the unexplored. 

I love both tea and coffee equally. For me, coffee is that extrovert friend whom you text constantly and can hang out with at any point of time while tea is the friend whom you text before calling but comes up with the best advices over long phone calls. I can’t do without either. 

My mind has an organised deck of folders and trust me one of them is called ‘You have already thought about it way too much, there isn’t really a point’. And every time I try to open it, it says ‘Files too heavy, it might take a while to load’.

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close up photography of crying woman next inside room

I might forget what I had for breakfast but I clearly remember how someone held the door for me three years back. 

I have a toxic trait of carrying a series of breakups and patch-ups with writing and though I know we will ultimately end up being together, I have fallen for the added fun that comes after writer’s block. 

Sometimes, my heart thinks too much and my mind feels too much. No, don’t think I mixed the two things; that’s exactly what I mean.

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