Freedom comes at a price. Doesn’t it always? Otherwise why would it be called freedom?
I’d realized long ago that who I thought I wanted to be was not me. The only thing left to do is to want to be me and be better.
I recently discovered the existence of empathy cards. They are genius. One of them goes “I’m really sorry I haven’t been in touch. I didn’t know what to say. ” There are people I need to send this card to.
What are words again? I forgot
Marble Fragments 