I'll write another letter to myself.

Last night I started writing a post that tried to explain how grateful I am for all the love in my life. That lately I haven't been fighting my flaws the way I usually do. That's the thing with me; I have to be perfect. Perfect room. Perfect body. Perfect life essentially. And I'm never able to achieve it.

I wanted to write a wonderfully long entry about how Glamour is the best un-biological sister I could ask for, and that no one has impacted my life she way she has. I wanted to write a long entry about how the Poet makes me want to be a better person, and that when he holds me I feel like my chest is about to explode from happiness. I wanted to write a long entry explaining how wonderful it is that my father is trying to have a relationship with me, that even though months of us not speaking he wants a small part of my life.

I should be happy. I was so happy. Then the flaws took it all away. Call me selfish, call me crazy. I just feel like I don't deserve any of this. It's just too good for me. They all deserve better.