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I am not totally fucking up my life.

I decided so tonight while lying on my back patio staring up at the stars.

My perception of myself is so distorted. It’s just so simply wrong.

I invest way too much energy into what people think of me whose opinions of me don’t actually matter worth a damn. I do so because I’m scared whatever potentially bad thing they may be thinking about me is right.

I am the only person who gets to define me. For the longest time, I’ve defined myself in mostly negative terms and mean light. I don’t want to do that anymore.

I don’t want to believe the not-so-nice lies anymore. I don’t want to be so scared of who I am anymore.

Because the truth, whether I believe it or not, is not only am I not totally fucking up my life, I’m actually doing a pretty damn good job at it.

[Initially I typed “I might actually be doing a pretty damn good job at it.” Even that much felt like a stretch. Then I sat for a minute and lost the “might.” It’s the truth, regardless of what I choose to believe.]