and then, this morning, through the thick chocolate of a broken croissant, the amalgamation of coffee at its edges and at the bottom of the cup, the click of spoons as they rest and light together, i find, again, my own new perspective. i see the things i need not deal with, the way other people see me, the way they see the things i need to have to want to have. i see the warpedness of things that i have formed myself around, their stagnation. you need not do this to yourself, they say. the broken flakes of pastry stick to my fingers, and to my tongue as i lick them. you need not do this to yourself. because i am and i need not. these are all the mistakes i have already made, over and over, but i need not be punished for them. i am whole too.