analyze this

Someone I love "diagnosed" me with something last night, which, after reading the symptoms, makes me wonder what this person actually knows about me. It doesn't seem like they know anything about me, but they do. So who knows who? Who knows.

But seriously, I was an empathetic child who could definitely pick up on social cues and read body language. I wasn't late learning to use a fork. I could understand sarcasm. I never used the word "beckon" over the word "call." And if I had any "unusual facial expressions," it was because I was goofing off and not because I had/still have a syndrome.

Really.

But I still stand by my own self diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder. For the most part. Again-- who knows? I have decided I am done with self diagnosing and labeling and pinpointing. Ready for a fairly cheesy line? Okay, here it is: I am not a disorder or a syndrome; I am Meghan. In fact, I am not even Meghan. I am flesh and bones and a karmic stream.

And this karmic stream wants to try out happiness for awhile. Just try it out. I don't even have to be happy yet. I can pretend because pretending is better than waking up with puffy eyes... unless by "puffy eyes" I mean "a million dollars," then it is definitely better to wake up with a million dollars.