I do not see myself as a problem. I do not need to be fixed. I think I am a puzzle piece that ended up in a bag of mixed up puzzle pieces, who are simply trying to work out what the riot of reds, a sweep of blues, and garish purples amount to. It's a hard job for anyone to do, really.
Why do we have this self-imposed idea that throughout our lives we are meant to maintain a perfect, crisp version of ourselves? Like untouched snow, or fresh school shoes that we don't want to scratch.