May 3, 2009 You don't have to fight my battle's for me! I'm fine with it. Yah, not fine. It hurts like fcuk! But well, you try to be rational! I'd always thought of myself as tough. I hoped I was kind. But I knew I was tough. I retained a habit of dividing my life into compartments. If I chose, I could stay in that place forever, being that wounded, abandoned, resentful kid. Acting out my childhood disappointments, replaying them, chasing away every chance of happiness. If I had a goal, I reached it. And if ever my life didn't go to plan, I'd bounce back. I cry in the bath. It's not weak. It's necessary as long as it doesn't become a habit.  FOAM@ROYALE HOTEL
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