dear blog, i am sorry i did not post you until now. you feel familiar.
1. dreamt up black and white fragments. sarcastic phrases in bold faced fonts.
3. broke a promise to myself. dear blog, i just cannot censor you. so i'll change my intentions.
7. sorted through once loved items. placed them into boxes i wished were smaller, more attractive.
7. endured the first funeral for myself—sitting on the floor—of my wonderfully silent capitol hill apartment.
8. lived. as the word 'therapy' paraded out of my mom's mouth.
4. questioned happiness. in all its relative seduction.
[x]. accepted life. a new life. for my self and my sanity.
10. remembered. how it feels to be close to you, lying in bed, on sunday morning.
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