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ovenbird I haven't climbed any ladders, either career or social. I haven't thrown caution to the wind. I haven't passed out drunk or tried sky diving. I haven't seen my name in print on the cover of a book or ever been asked to give my expert opinion on anything at all. I haven't won a lottery, not even a meaningless one, like the good hair lottery, for instance. I haven't “made somethingof myself if, bysomething,” you mean a thing of publicly visible worth. I haven't learned to be extroverted or to control my anxiety or to run for exercise, though I've tried.

But I have stayed up all night with someone who made me laugh, watching the sun set and the stars wheel through the sky and the sun come up again and I have felt life kick in my womb and die there and I have cried until my eyes forgot how to see and laughed until I forgot how to breathe and I have believed myself strange and unlovable and I have found that there are hands that know mine and I haven’t learned how to make forever real, but I try, bird by bird, day by day, I try.
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