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Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Therapy.

I always wanted to be a Psychiatrist partly because I feel I needed one. As if life was always too much for me to handle, and it sort of has been. I didn't really get a shrink, I was my own help. And ofcourse my friends and family. Thankfully, over the years, I have managed to make friends who know even my sighs in and out. They get what a complex human I am and accept me for it, finally, no questions asked. We all took time to grow up from being judgmental bitches to understanding humans. We fall, we err and so we forgive.

It is so good to be with my best friend and see that she still gets it, gets me. It is equally nice to go for a drive with this boy who I seem to have known forever with our favorite music. It's better to wake up in my mother's arms, to my father's coffee. It is overwhelming to have texts in my inbox from people, telling me they're still there, like they always have been. It is wonderful to catch up with a long lost soulmate and catch up right where we left off. It is beautiful to be back.

Being home is like therapy for me.

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