You have to come to terms with the fact that you let them leave with so many pieces of you. You have to forgive yourself for loving yourself thin, for forgetting about the things you wanted to do because you were so busy trying to save someone who didn’t want to be saved.
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Obviously living in that negative sort of mind set isn’t really living, but how do I change it? How do I grow past just being a survivor of tragedy and pain? How do I live a life that fills my emotional bank account instead of constantly emptying it?
My time kicking through the slush pile has taught me this: people are crazy and people are determined. I cannot imagine the amount of dedication and beautiful delusion it takes to write five hundred pages about a woman who must choose between a jazz musician and an eccentric LES artist.