Mar. 10th, 2017

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Visiting with a friend at their house. Their shotglass accidentally gets knocked onto the floor.

FRIEND: Oh shit! My carpet's going to get drunk!

ME: laughs uproariously

That laugh was enormously appreciated, as the emotional baseline was lower than normal today. No intrusive or disturbed thoughts, though. At least none that weren't manageable. It amazes me how casual thoughts of self-harm (be it physical or something like running away) can be. And I mean casual in the original sense - a feeling that is fleeting, transient, something that just floats across the mind and behind the hills like a cloud across the sky.

It's getting easier to ignore those thoughts. This is good.

I'm forever going to be crazy. There will be days when the intrusive thoughts are easy enough to bat away. There will be days when those thoughts will eclipse every shard of light in my soul. This won't ever be fixed. Maybe the point isn't to be fixed. Maybe the point is to learn how to be okay with the broken parts.

"You wanna fix me? But maybe I like me broken." - Emily Amber

Maybe it's okay to like my broken parts. Like the crazy. Like the lupus. Like accepting that I don't have to be whole to be happy. Like the picture can be incomplete and yet still be beautiful. Maybe I can be beautiful, even through all the self-doubt, the scars, the ridiculously large ego that hides a terribly insecure woman underneath.

Maybe I can still be beautiful.

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