Maybe I shouldn't be trying to hard to fix myself
to push myself into a life of more normalcy.

Maybe I will never be whole 
and normal 
and like everybody else. 
Maybe I can’t ever be completely right.
Maybe I’m like a tree that’s grown in the shade 
and in the wind, 
fragile, bent, crooked, twisted.
I can never be straight and tall and strong.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t open my leaves to the sun 
with everything that I’ve got.
It doesn’t mean that this misshapen, fragile tree
can’t be a thing of beauty.

-from my diary, July 2012

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