Sometimes I forget I'm broken
I know it hasn't been that long. Not even three weeks yet. Everyone tells me that things will heal. In weeks. In months. Maybe in a year I'll look and feel like I did a few weeks ago. The thing is, sometimes when I wake up in the morning I've forgotten I'm broken. The feeling is fleeting to be sure. But for a moment, or a few moments, I feel just like I did before Iggy. Before all of this. I feel like I can hop out of bed and throw on my scrubs and drive to work. Or my workout gear and race off to teach a Zumba class. I feel like when I smile my face will crinkle up the way it used to and my other dimple will be there. Or that when I run my fingers through my hair that's what I'll find. Hair. And not peach fuzz and a lumpy line of stitches. Sometimes, I miss me. I don't mean to be depressing. I know my entries are usually brimming with humor and a large helping of sarcasm. I like humor and sarcasm. They're pretty fantastic. But the path to healin...