Damn my uncomfortable but correct instincts.
I experienced a loss this week. Again. I think a teensy weensy part of me saw it coming.
At least it wasn’t the loss of a PERSON. It sucks even though losing things is a normal part of life.
I didn’t want “this thing” to be my forever, but the goodbye was somewhat humiliating and ill timed.... from my perspective. Probably not God’s.
I’m growing really fucking tired of the beatdowns of 2020, and now 2021. If I don‘t claw my way out of this chaos with my strength and judgment leveled up like 300 points, I’m going to be pissed. But I guess that’s up to me.
I think I should be proud that I haven’t gone off the rails. Had these external whammys come for me a decade ago, I wouldn’t have handled them as well.
It’s ironic how much I’ve talked about shedding pretenses and roles lately... POP, there went another one. I should take my own advice and use my downtime to reinvent myself. But how?
Well, my creative non-fiction class starts in 2 weeks. That’s a nice thing.
I’m afraid to tick off other nice things because I’m scared I’ll jinx them away. Even though that’s “magical thinking”.
“It’s all in your hands.” - Mrs. Sumner, my 3rd grade teacher.
She wasn’t wrong. But what am I supposed to pick up? I’m afraid of what I’ll drop next.
There‘s gotta be something. I’ll always have writing.
I want to find answers within myself that only time and life can provide. And that’s the issue. And it’s scary.
”Well I can guess. But I just don’t know.”
- Heroin by The Velvet Underground.
Same. Minus the velvet and the heroin.
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