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#1
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All the pieces that are me
Are shut out Why do they scream so silently ![]() The cracks have shattered Nothing will lastingly bind The cracks together ![]()
__________________
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![]() Anonymous200125, Anonymous37781, Clara22, gayleggg, H3rmit, herethennow, Idiot17, Nammu, Rohag, Stronger, ToeJam
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#2
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![]() ![]() ![]() |
![]() Fuzzybear
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![]() Fuzzybear
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#3
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Thank you
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#4
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Fuzzy
![]() You matter!!!!!!!! Alison ![]() |
![]() Fuzzybear
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![]() Fuzzybear
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#5
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I've realized that we don't need all the pieces. In fact we may be better off w/o them
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![]() Fuzzybear
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![]() Fuzzybear, Nammu
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#6
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Shattered or whole, you are the Fuzzybear. Nothing can change that.
((((((( Fuzzy Paws! )))))))
__________________
My dog ![]() |
![]() Fuzzybear
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![]() Fuzzybear
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#7
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![]() Fuzzybear
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![]() Fuzzybear
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#8
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((((((((fuzzy)))))))))
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![]() Fuzzybear
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![]() Fuzzybear
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#9
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__________________
Bipolar I, Depression, GAD Meds: Zoloft, Zyprexa, Ritalin "Each morning we are born again. What we do today is what matters most." -Buddha ![]() |
![]() Fuzzybear
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![]() Fuzzybear
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#10
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We will try to put the pieces of you back together ((((Fuzybear))))
__________________
"The two most important days in your life are the day you were born.... and the day you find out why" ~ Mark Twain |
![]() Fuzzybear
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![]() Fuzzybear
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#11
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The pieces of you are scattered currently
The room is mirrored It is hard to tell the pieces from their reflections It is possible you can put them together it just takes time breathe. ![]() ![]() ![]()
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Nammu …Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. …... Desiderata Max Ehrmann |
![]() Fuzzybear
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![]() Fuzzybear
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#12
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Mirror by Sylvia Plath
I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see I swallow immediately Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike. I am not cruel, only truthful- The eye of the little god, four cornered. Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall. It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers. Faces and darkness separate us over and over. Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me, Searching my reaches for what she really is. Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon. I see her back, and reflect it faithfully. She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands. I am important to her. She comes and goes. Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness. In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.
__________________
Clara Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out. Vaclav Havel |
![]() Fuzzybear
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