I’m reading about habits.
It’s something I do–read about habits and schedules and stuff. I do it when it’s time to re-engage with life.
I’m wanting to get back into things.
There’s been six months of my life that feel lost–I was surviving, plodding along, grieving obviously. This isn’t rocket science.
Grief has taken on new dimensions for me now–new contours and new depths. My understanding has increased, yet that comprehension seems inversely proportional to the ability to describe it in words. I’m beginning to realize how much of human experience cannot be put into words, which helps me understand why writing is so important–to push into those inscrutable terrains of human experience, of human emotion as it relates to compounding experiences, and try to represent it all in art. But I’m not going to be able to encapsulate the last six months into a paragraph. That much I know.
The last few days, I’ve felt more like myself than I have in a long time. I have wanted to get together with friends. I’ve felt things. I’ve felt ambition.
Right now I feel the desire to occupy my space–to reclaim my territories. That’s why I’m here this evening. Hello to you, if you’re still out there. I’ve missed you.
I’ve done this before, and I’ll do it again. I’ll always do it.
The timer just went off which means it’s time to go watch a show with Lolly and go to sleep.
For the first time in a long time, I’m excited by what tomorrow might bring.