I love the previously posted "manual" on how to love a broken girl. Every single line is true. Every goddamn line.
Everyone except one. I refuse to accept the term "broken". Yeah, I'm damaged goods. There's parts of me that might never heal and that might be mended but not completely. Linkin Park has a wonderful phrase for that: when the paper's crumpled up, it can't be perfect again.
But broken? I refuse to identify with that.
I felt it was somehow important I said that.
xoxo
Kiwi
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