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 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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M. C. Frank
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