You are not only worthy but you are unfathomably good.

But I have done so much bad.

That does not, must not, shall not, define you.

Only be so if I let it, you know?

From here all you can do is grow.

What if I don’t?

What if I do?

What if we fail?

What if we don’t try and never get the chance to succeed?

So many pointless questions you have.

So many answers in that beautiful mind of yours.

It’s because we’re cancer.

You mean A cancer, water sign?

Yes, cry babies who always whine…

Actually, we are quite divine…

Who said that being self critical is a crime?

It will work itself out, take your time.

I am DYING!

You’re going to be just fine.

I can’t do this anymore…

When it rains it really pours…

You’re not funny.

Maybe you’ll feel a little better if you go running.

You’re stuck with the cards you’re dealt.

Let your friends know if there is anything they can do to help.

I don’t need help, I can do it all myself.

You are so much more than a trophy sitting idle on a shelf.

I can’t do it.

Can’t hurt to try.

I’m weak if I cry.

You are strong and resilient like a butterfly.

Sometimes I think of giving up.

But you haven’t, because somewhere, deep down behind that careless, aloof attitude, you give a fuck.

Shut up.