If there's one thing I'm acutely aware of, it's that nobody's perfect. I've come to accept it. Everyone's got somethin’ weird in their head, be they my neighbor, my nurse, or my favorite artist. I can recognize it in myself... Sometimes my sympathies lie with the “wrong” people. I indulge in things I'm ashamed of. There's a lot I'm just plain... not good at. But I'm *good enough*, right?