Wherein I did an unreal amount of research on Chicken Little.

Welcome back.

Or just welcome, if you prefer.

Before I remade this, I decided to do a bit of research this time, but as it turns out, I ended up in the same spot that I began except now I have an weird amount of knowledge about a chicken, nay, hen, and I'm sorry, but did anyone else know the original story of chicken little was called Henny Penny and ended with the hens being eaten by a fox for their foolishness?

Yeah, I didn't know that. That's news to me. Screw metaphors, I would make a tasty meal for a fox and I am not about to tell some random fox in the woods that the sky is falling, so joke is on you, fox. I WIN.

Shoot. I forget what I was saying.

Oh right. I did some research before I relaunched this blog because it's important to know things about things that you are going to say.

I wanted to write a book. I wanted to write a children's story. I wanted to do something of importance before I turned 30, but if I do only one thing, it is to say the following.

My name is Kim and I have Generalized Anxiety and Depression that manifests itself in the form of excessive worrying, saying hateful things about myself to myself, and needing to check anything that could potentially cause a fire before I leave the house. It's a million other things, things I am sure I will have time to dig into. But if anyone takes one thing away from this, it should be the following:

I am a survivor.

I am surviving. 

You are surviving.

You are important and your feelings are valid and you, just by being the beautiful composition of molecules that you are, are worthwhile.

Never, ever forget that. There is at least one person or animal, probably more, who is better for having you around. For knowing you. For simply having been in your presence.

Now, let's do this thing.