Sometimes I believe I have the right or reason to be angry or upset about a situation. Oftentimes, I reflect and discover that I was in the wrong, that I overreacted, or that I was a lunatic and perceived something nonexistent. This process is very damaging to my sense of self worth. Part of me wants to righteously hang onto the “reasons” I was upset, because in some ways that feels better than the opinion I later form of myself. However, in the end I feel worse, because I start thinking about what a bitch I must be to present unnecessary ugliness unapologetically. I know it can be very difficult to understand or deal with me. I am irrational and prone to fantastical thought. I am moody and overly sensitive, apparently much more so than the average person. These, and other characteristics, categorize me as crazy. I am functionally crazy, though, and it comes and goes. I do not know if it would be better to be completely over either line, but I think borderline is the worst. If I were totally insane, I probably would not even realize it, let alone question whether all the unpleasantness were in my nature or just my fault. If I were totally sane (such a condition exists?), I probably would be able to talk myself out of any rare episode of evil. So far I do not have control over the darkness and negativity that cloud my otherwise sunshiny personality; sometimes I can fake my way through it, but pretending does not take away the hurt inside. I want to believe that for every exceptionally negative aspect of my being, there is an exceptionally wonderful part that is equally noticeable. For example, although I feel deeper pain than most people, I experience greater joy. I wish I could convince myself of other ways my blessings counterbalance my curses, but somehow instead I get a lump in my throat and feel guilty, worthless, or disposable. I like to think of myself as a flower, one that is delicate but surprisingly hardy. I wilt frequently, but I also bloom often. I want to believe that my blossom is so bright and beautiful that I am more than worth the painstaking effort necessary to keep me in the garden. Is it?