I keep telling myself that I’m a human being, an imperfect human being who’s not made to look like a doll, and that who I am as a person is more important than whether at that moment I have a nice figure. (x)
I have to believe there’s a way. There has to be a way to step off the carousel, to start again, to start fresh… There has to be a way to leave all my ghosts behind. It’s a choice. It’s a choice I’m making. To move forward. To move past this. I can do that… I can do that. All I have to do… Is begin.