Vaguebooking is the worst. Out of respect to everyone involved, though, it’ll have to do. Nobody reads this right now, but eventually they will, and I don’t want to paint in colors that will dull and peel in time. I archived everything else. It felt like the right thing to do.

I’m going to write about Iceland soon; I have a few pictures to edit first, but I’ll get there in time. I have a lot of other things to write about, too.

I don’t know how I’m going to do this. I mean, I will, of course, but what the actual fuck? I had a pocket of clarity yesterday, a few hours when I felt something better. Stats called it being able to see through the cliffs, to the valley beyond. I liked that analogy.

I know most of this is going to be raw and unfiltered and rife with contradictions, but these are the natures of our hearts. I’m not sorry anymore.

So, I need to give myself permission to grieve, to be angry, to forgive, to grow. I don’t quite care right now about the judgments or perceptions of others; I have to take care of me, now.

I guess I just needed a marker, a signpost to look back on when I’ve rebuilt. Because I will.

 

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