What I forget is, that I will still be, fundamentally me, and thus fundamentally flawed. I forget that you can't outrun your problems, much less out dream them. These days my dreams are smaller, more realistic: I feel relief getting to the end of the day and crawling into bed is my reward. I am proud of writing a few hundred words, let alone thousands. I think of the people I have around me, and the family I treasure, and begin to ask myself why this isn't enough.
The honest answer? I don't know. In some ways, it is more than enough, it is more than I ever would have thought possible to have. At the age of 12/13 I wouldn't have believed anyone if they told me I would go from being almost totally alone and isolated, belittled even by those who should have helped me, to having friends who love and value me. It is still a novelty, even today. As much as the memory of that girl hurts, I am learning to make peace with her. I hope I never forget, because she deserves this. She deserves the love she has now and treasures it. To change one life is enough, but to have a voice that people listen to? That is an incredible gift.
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