but then.
There's that annoying, shrill voice in the back of my head that tries to make me feel like a piece of shit for indulging. You went out with your friends? SELFISH. You bought a six pack of beer, and it's sitting in your fridge? ALCOHOLIC. You're letting your words spill past your lips? BITCH. You enjoy being called beautiful? SKANK. Why would you even dare doing any of these things, outside of work and parenting? How could you? You're so retarded and irresponsible.
Has that ever happened to you? It seems as if you're being grabbed and scratched, and you're trying to kick your legs free from the dark shadow that wants to pull you back into misery. [memories of the last fight to free yourself]
Almost tempted to give in. Almost.
Yet, I know better. I'd like to think that I'm older and wiser. I'd like to think I have built up an adequate amount of strength from what little life experience I do have.
When I am tested, I falter, but still attempt to hold my ground. That counts, right? Right?
I refuse to be miserable.
