"Opposition brings concord. Out of discord comes the fairest harmony."
I am the sum of my defects, to lay them
down is to die. Changing meby forcing me to get help is forcing me to become
someone else. You think you can help
me, or should help me. Is my deficit that annoying? Will "fixing" me make you feel better?Realize that by fixing me, your tearing me apart. I know I'm sick, I'm
ill, I'm addicted. I binge, purge, use, fixate, cut, obsess, worry,
and rage. I listen to voices telling me you want to change me, to make me better. Really? I don't
see the life you live as better. I see that your scared to let your
weaknesses show, to claim them as your own, to know and show that
they are a part of you, like every part that is acceptable and
healthy. I own my diseases, they are unique, changing and evolving. Predicting my behavior is impossible, unless you give me pills that make me think
like you. Or give me programs teaching me to act proper. Or follow me
around pushing away the naughty deprecating
things that chase me. Let me off your leash of altruism and guilt induced change. My faults, I make them work for me. They become a unique discordant song that never ends. Listen to the off-key and dragging
notes, they are a symphony. Dance to my music. You'll never be
bored and perhaps you'll forget about trying to change me.