I've been fractured.
Do you know what it means to own your story? It means to stop lying. It means to stop hiding. Are you ready for that? I hope I am. Everything rides on my ability to tell the truth now. I have to be completely honest with myself, my lover, my family.
And I'm scared. I've never let the fractured pieces have a say in the same story. I'm frightened to tell the whole truth.
She assures me I can tell her the worst of me, but I don't trust her. And I think I have to trust myself more than anyone else anyway. If I tell the truth, I tell it for me and I tell it to be free of shame.
The real question is, will I still love myself if I finally include all of these fractured pieces as part of my honest story? And can I tell that story out loud?
Saturday, September 15
Monday, September 10
Newfoundland
I'm about to pack up for the last time.
This is an odd feeling as I scrape my memories off this floor... I'm gonna miss that stupid tan carpet... These old windows that should have been replaced two years ago that are growing Mushrooms like something from a strange novel involving fairies and dwarves. That banister I would hang over like a rag doll... The scratch marks at the door from the puppy I loved so much. The table dad built and the storage room that is basically a bunker for the day the apocalypse hits. Gonna miss these little quirks.
My heart is hurting like I've got a medical condition, which I might, but that's beside the point.
I'm moving to Newfoundland. That's huge. I've never been there. I'm moving there not because Ive been there and it feels like home already. I'm scared. I'm tired. I wanna cry. But I'm doing it because of a million reasons. Well. Maybe not a million, but something close to that.
I have suffered so much loss, it's time to start over. Completely. I'm selling my bus, my little home on wheels. I'm selling a bunch of my gear and moving on. I don't want these old memories to haunt me. The faces, the names... I'm tired. I don't want to keep getting dragged down. It's time to fly.
Farewell Alberta. I will think of you fondly. I will remember the good times. I will remember the success and the romance, I will remember the dancing and loving. Thank you for everything. I am setting sail into a new life.
Wish me luck. My heart might need it.
This is an odd feeling as I scrape my memories off this floor... I'm gonna miss that stupid tan carpet... These old windows that should have been replaced two years ago that are growing Mushrooms like something from a strange novel involving fairies and dwarves. That banister I would hang over like a rag doll... The scratch marks at the door from the puppy I loved so much. The table dad built and the storage room that is basically a bunker for the day the apocalypse hits. Gonna miss these little quirks.
My heart is hurting like I've got a medical condition, which I might, but that's beside the point.
I'm moving to Newfoundland. That's huge. I've never been there. I'm moving there not because Ive been there and it feels like home already. I'm scared. I'm tired. I wanna cry. But I'm doing it because of a million reasons. Well. Maybe not a million, but something close to that.
I have suffered so much loss, it's time to start over. Completely. I'm selling my bus, my little home on wheels. I'm selling a bunch of my gear and moving on. I don't want these old memories to haunt me. The faces, the names... I'm tired. I don't want to keep getting dragged down. It's time to fly.
Farewell Alberta. I will think of you fondly. I will remember the good times. I will remember the success and the romance, I will remember the dancing and loving. Thank you for everything. I am setting sail into a new life.
Wish me luck. My heart might need it.
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