What is wrong with me

I can’t help thinking a few times in undetermined mounts of time if there is something wrong with me. Am I damaged goods? Have I lost all realistic functionality? Are my general expectations too high and am I doomed to suffer perpetually from them?

These are answers that, despite the self-searching, I’ve never been able to straighten out (along with countless others ones clearly), and clearly during the Springtime changes in the the weather and the flora and fauna, sends me back into the nostalgic moments of my naïve and fantasy-driven-childhood.

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