I don't like it any other way.
It’s not my job to be good enough for anyone else. I am good enough for me.
I love my physical health, but I love my mental health even more.
Honesty has become such a critical part of who I am that it's to a fault (I think?).
I’m an idiot. Or was, anyway.
I have been wading through this shit show for a couple years now and I think it’s time for us to talk about it.
I am not afraid to speak my truths anymore.
I guess exposure therapy works.
It’s hard to know someone loathes you with such visceral hatred that it can be physically felt in the tension between text messages.
This is my story to tell, not anyone else’s.