Today I've realised that I don't need to be fine.
All the time I keep telling people that everything is fantastic, only to avoid hurting or worrying them.
But I don't need to be fine. I can allow myself to be completely shattered. To cry, moan, scream, throw pillows across the room, eat ridiculous amounts of chocolate (or dried cranberries as a healthier option), crawl under my duvet and hold tight onto my plush turtle.
It's fine to do so, because I don't need to be fine. I've realised that I hold problems, troubles and insecurities of so many people, that I can every now and then be human myself. And being human sometimes hurts, right?
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