I wrote this on my iPhone, so I apologize for formatting and everything.
It occurred to me driving home at dusk through a thick and low layer of fog, suffocating in its security, where clouds confuse with mountains and inland lighthouses illuminate the way home. It had been a year of confusion. It had been a year of mistakes and an infinite unravelling of weakness. But today, someones weakness has become my saving grace. Someone else’s anger and sadness has lifted me from quite possibly was my own, festering and recoiling upon itself.
I apologize for leaving you guys for a while; it seemed my only option. Not only that, but my only desire. For that, I’m not sure I’ll ever understand or believe. I’m sorry for the posts I published and immediately deleted or published privately and poured over, wondering the consequences of pressing that little boxy button.
I’m back, but I want to clarify the reasons why.
I’m back because this tale has an ending and I feel I owe it to you, even all of you who follow for pretty pictures to stare at while you sip a whiskey on the rocks home alone (or is that just me?).
I’m back because I still have forgiveness in my bones. Some of you know me personally, and I’m sure you’ve seen me grow over the years. When plush with youth, I could be a selfish cunt. Now, stuffing sticking out from the edges, I’ve come to see that everyone is fighting a great battle. Be kind. Be open. Be loving. Be forgiving. Forgive people more than you’d forgive yourself, then back up and try to allow yourself the same freedom.
I’m not back to slander or vilify. Normally, I wouldn’t even touch upon this because the very mention seems to point directly at you and claim, “Evil!” However, it’s been not only insinuated, but lamented over. Don’t read this blog for gossip. Read it for my shit metaphors, endless optimism, and silly thoughts. I’ve never claimed to be unbiased. In fact, quite the opposite. This blog is essentially fiction. It’s my own story, and that alone tints my writing. Read at your own discretion, and never, ever judge. Everyone has their own path. Everyone makes their own decisions.
Today, as I drove towards that tall grey building, I cried. My head began to ache, but through the throbs and sobs, I laughed. I realized that for the first time, I was crying for happiness. My life changed again last Thursday, and here I sit, on a plain Monday, with the rustling of pressed paper in hand, telling everyone that I’ll be seeing them tomorrow a free woman.
If reading pop post-modernist literature has taught me anything, it’s that we have a tendency to hold onto our pain. We re-tell our stories, re-opening old wounds over and over in search of pity, pseudo self-awareness, or an “awakening.” Anything to make us feel real. But this is my ending. I won’t tell this story. If you wish to read it, it’s here, but only in bits and pieces. I have no desire to hold on to this. And with the pound of this gavel, I am letting go.