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what's outside the blanket
Some things are just dead. I have to accept that. move on. Time is shorter every day and I can't waste my time and expend my energy carrying around so many corpses.
So I realize...
I am done writing letters. I am done making cards. I am done giving gifts of any kind. I am done trying to be the one to keep lines of communication open. At all. Ever. For anyone.
I am not a farmer. I am not a gardener. I am not an herbalist. I am not a rock star. I am not a musician, even. I am not a vegan chef. I am not a shaman or a wise woman or a fucking witch.
I am not a friend. I am not a wife. I am not a child.
I am realizing all the things I am not and now that is all gone, I can focus on what I am.
And realize that "I am" is also non-existent.
5:47 PM - Wednesday, Aug. 18, 2021
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