refusing to drink my own poison

Never again.

I don’t want to drink poison, hoping it hurts the other person.

I don’t need to donate space in my head to toxic narcissists. Or convince a person who doesn’t understand me that I am, in fact, the wonderful person that my friends and loved ones cherish. I don’t need to pretend I love rainy days (occasionally, yes, but I prefer the cool gray days).

Am I depressed? I’m not sure. I have bad days. Or days where I snap. I am choosing to have these less and less…but I am not so conscientious every day. I can’t lie.

I may not be happy, but I want to be happy.

Which means leaving the past behind, while not forgetting it. I can’t say I’ve mastered this. I try.

I look at the picture perfect lives that surround me. Perfect enough. Nobody lives an Instagram model life. But mine has taught me things I would never have learned without some rainy days.

I think mine is just as good as theirs.

My life is as good.  The lives of my friends.  Just as wonderful.

…I am learning to be happy. Every day, a little more.

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