I look in the mirror and see a skinnier version of myself. A version I’m not ready to accept yet, yet alone let people accept. I hate looking at myself because I feel like I don’t deserve to look this good. When you get hit with cancer, it’s kind of a wake up call. Not to fucking drought yourself in self worries and built bigger worries to yourself. I started to smoke cigarettes after the doctor gave me the clear bill of health after my bone marrow transplant. It’s amazing how I’m still able to text these words knowing I’m not supposed to be here since I didn’t go by the “textbook way” of healing through cancer but I did go through my own ways. My ways were not ethical but they didn’t hurt anyone.