They say “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”… I don’t agree. Some things that didn’t kill me, came so close that they’re still damaging. They didn’t make me better. Some things made me worse. And can’t that be okay too? Can’t some things just break you? This whole fucking world wants you to believe that admitting defeat makes you weak. For fuck’s sake, BLEED. And bleed openly. There can be pride in vulnerability. Honesty is maturity. And honestly, it’s the things that did kill me that actually made me.