I have a thousand metaphors to explain how summer is going, I have a thousand thoughts put together that need to adapt to the days, I have a thousand personified paragraphs stating how I have a love-and-hate relationship with myself and yet I'm acknowledging one of those in different ways just in a hope that one day I’ll read them and not give up. I promise, if for once it worked out well, I promise I would never let myself be in that situation again. I'm scribbling down the anonymous lines, shapes, words and reminders just to calm myself. I have changed my wallpaper, edited the notes app, switched on the guidance app, posted many self-care reminders and scrolled Pinterest a thousand times and yet again I’ll ignore and let myself sink. It is tough in every way, and the interesting thing is everyone has their own “tough spots” Mine comes with no warning, rather it remains. But I tend to forget it on busy days and when I am not busy I'm back regretting the toughs.

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

Moreover, the causes of toughness are dramatic. My mother says, ’They attract me, they are my subordinates, well-wishers, caretakers, helpers, stairs, positive electrons, idols, exponential growth factors. I should take them as my best friends.’ Maybe it's the truth, maybe mothers are right, maybe I think a lot, maybe I should be happy and just sit back, maybe I should confront them and get along with them, maybe I should try, maybe I should let toughs take a lead, maybe I should let them play a part, maybe I should not compete.