I’ve spent nine years running away from my darkest thoughts. Shoving them on a dilapidated, just-as-tired-as-me shelf that can no longer stand the weight. I was too afraid to go investigate that space of displaced tragedies.
Today, or maybe tomorrow, I’m going to move some of my favorite belongings into that sinister enclave, and turn it into a summer home. I don’t have to live there all the time, but visit until I’ve excavated all the dusty memorable and traumatic trophies that make the environment so dreary. Or, I will observe, poke, and organize until they can be used in a constructive manner.
I want to weaponize my plights and paranoia to fight for my happiness, not bring me down. ♦