I am working on not beating myself up so much.
It's a worthy goal.
My body is covered in bruises, cuts, black and blue skin, and dried blood. When I go out in public, women shriek, kids cry, the insensitive laugh. Some point, some look away. Cars pile up, one into another.
The extra-sensitive, vomit.
I want to get to the point where I can walk around and wave the way Queen Elizabeth II did, and be met in return by benign smiles.
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