I’ve been gone for a while, I know. Not one month, not two but two and a couple of weeks. Truth is, I’d remain gone for a few more if it was really up to me- it isn’t.
The guy that runs this space for me has taken it upon himself to text me, on a daily basis, how many days it’s been since I posted. Even though I know he can see a few drafts on the back end (drafts that up until now, I haven’t felt ready to publish.) There’s nothing like a little passive aggressiveness to get you going.
Am I finally ready? Who knows… but I do know one thing, staying away from the one thing that makes you you does not necessarily fix whatever else is going on with you, so here I am.
It’s been 73 days, 74 by the time I publish this, I am seated in the dark with nails that are too long and as brittle as always clicky clackiting on a keyboard. I can hear what sounds like a sitcom next door, I can also hear myself think that after two months and two weeks of silence, I expect myself to write something better, you deserve to read something better but this, this isn’t it. Who on earth knows what on earth better looks like at this point?
A couple weeks ago, I was seated on the floor, caught somewhere between a thought and Netflix and I told a friend,
‘I miss the old me’
‘What’s the old you?’
The old me is a lot of things of things- she is loud, she is proud, she is a source of light, she has her shit together on most days and boy does she know how to move! I might not know what better looks like- if I do, I am not ready to admit it to you or myself just yet- but I know who the old me, the one that I miss is, it’s time t get her back. So come along and let’s rediscover her together, will you?
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