There is this thing that happens when you lose enough people in your life. You see someone look at the empty body of someone they previously loved, and acknowledge that they will never come back, and you know how it feels. A thing that happens when you start to allow yourself to feel every emotion you possess. You stop caring about how it effects others. A thing that happens when you allow yourself to be spontaneous and truly live your life. … And then there’s this thing that happens, when you stop trying to remember ever peice of your life.
I don’t remember January. I don’t remember February. I don’t remember March. I remember March a year ago. I remember March two years age. I remember March three, four, and five years ago. I don’t remember March this year.
I don’t remember when I stopped trying to love people. I am balancing on a line between keeping up appropriate boundaries, and not letting anyone in at all. I am refining: who I am, who I trust, my goals, how I make decisions, how I spend my time. I’m not so broken anymore. I’m on the mends… because I am taking time to be alone with myself.