The measure of myself

None of us deserve anything.

I don't deserve to be getting an education at a private school, and yet I am.  I complain about its rules and restrictions, but the fact is there are people who would take my place in a heartbeat.  Who am I to quibble over frivolities?

I don't deserve to have people who care about me, and yet they persist.  I don't deserve such a loving boyfriend, who helps me realize when I'm being ridiculous, who doesn't take shit and tells me I'm beautiful.
Some people fucking kill themselves because they feel like they're alone, and I feel sorry for myself when nobody texts me.

I don't deserve to be part of a family that is whole and that, for whatever miraculous reason, still loves each other.  So we've had financial crises and stress and pills and children in behavioral centers.  We've also had road trips and board games and raucous laughter and meals where we've all sat together as a family.  How often in America does that happen?  My parents are still married.  I take it for granted.

I don't deserve the clothes on my back, nor the "toys" I've accumulated over the years that now gather dust on my shelves, nor the ability to go and buy a $4 cup of Joe.  I complain about my hair or the state of my complexion, never once pausing to list the things my body can do.  For instance, I can run 2 miles without passing out, I can climb 6 flights of stairs, and I can wear a bikini (if I wanted to).

I don't deserve anything. But I've got it.

Now what?