Broken (in the best possible way)

by Jenny Lawson

It’s weird because we often try to present our fake, shiny, happy selves to others and make sure we’re not wearing too-obvious pajamas at the grocery store, but really, who wants to see that level of fraud?

But we don’t get to pick who we are. I am still as broken as I was before, but with better stories and a little more insight into just how fucked up I am.

Fuck the shame that comes from wearing your clothes to bed so you’re technically never (or always) in your pajamas.

Be good. Be kind. Love each other. Fuck everything else. The only thing that matters is how you feel and how you’ve made others feel. And I feel okay (for the moment), and I make others feel okay by being a barometer of awkwardness and self-doubt.

Trust me, I am bad at people to the point where I sometimes fantasize about how great house arrest might be.

People say that blood is thicker than water, but since when does thickness equal importance? Pudding is thicker than blood but I’d still rather have blood.

Considering all the famous people who’ve been cremated and dumped into the wind, I’ve probably breathed some of them in.

I’m not sure what the difference is between sleeping and time travel.

Although I guess if you overdosed on vampire blood you’d just be extra immortal? I’m sorry. I’m sure you get these questions over and over.