Kiana

After rain for about a week straight, today, the sun is finally up. I keep hoping for the sunshine to nourish the tired, cranky parts of me, but this morning I still woke up a bit groggy. I slept late last night, after having gone out by myself and walked for god knows how long.

A note on my phone from the walk, 4:53 PM: The sidewalks in this city are non-existent. Drivers whoop past, car horns blaring; I don’t hear them because I’m listening to music and to myself. Right now I am a floating head, floating body, feeling everything and nothing all at once.

These walks are helpful to me and my brain. They give me space to think about stuff I’d rather postpone thinking about when I’m sitting in my room, they let me keep track and flip over every thought in my head. These walks are teaching me to stand up, walk the distance, and keep the eye trained on wherever I’m bound to go—not for anyone else but myself. I cried briefly on my walk, thankful that my hair is now long enough to conceal parts of my face swollen and puffy from crying. I listened to “Heroes” and felt like running, except I didn’t have comfortable shoes and my bag was heavy. I cried because I didn’t know how to write this week’s entry. I’m not as good with goodbyes as I am with hellos.

Today, I’m saying farewell to this space that I’ve considered a home for over a year. The parts of my life spent sitting down, writing sentences, composing worlds and ideas, and reflecting on every bit of feeling have been the best so far. Being a diarist has affirmed my passion for writing, which is the only thing I’m good at, and I can only hope that things flourish from here.

Thank you for reading my words, for being here, for listening. I will write letters and diaries forever, though, because it’s the only way I know how to breathe when the external world is polluted with negative things. Let’s keep in touch through social media, yes?

Farewell, love, or see you around. Go have yourself a beautiful day. Xx ♦