Dear Diary, I have been keeping this one slug eating out my happiness in my stomach. I wonder what makes it grow and grow each day. I don't have any issues or problems. There's really nothing to be bothered. If I can tell anyone about how my life is right now, one can believe that I am truly a happy, independent woman but there's this parasite that's making this void in my heart. I feel like I always post something on line to show people how perfect my life is when I reality I feel this need of acceptance, validation and approval of everyone. Why do I have to be like this? Why do I have to put up a show to make everyone know that I have my life put together. Why can't I just be chill? Why can't I just be truly, genuinely, imperfectly happy? I feel like crying when there's nothing really to cry about. I suck at being human. I wish I was a dog or a potato.