I can fucking do it.

I can fucking do it.

I fucking have to do it.

It's just once. It'll pass.

Worst case scenario, I live out the rest of my perfectly adequate, enjoyable life, meet people I love, live thoughrally and boldly and unapologietically, and die as well as I know how, and some time later the whole world and everything in it burns in the darkest pits of hell. 

Which isn't so bad.

This doesn't matter that much. Nothing ever matters that much. It's a terrible mistake to believe it does.

The next time I have opportunity to personify Fireflies,

I will make them all drunk, all the time.

I am a good person.

I am a good person.

 

I didn't get that much done today. But that's fine. I did a lot of work-- I did. I took care of several people in ways most people can't. I am strong. I am brave. I am competent. I'm okay. I'm alright.