The weather is seriously wearing on me. It took forever to get home tonight, snow was falling fast and heavy and people were driving like idiots. I get it, we shouldn’t get much snow in the South, and nobody here can drive anyway, but, yeah, wearing me down. I’ve been mostly keeping busy. Painting furniture, preparing to move, working. Blah blah blah. I’m feeling okay in general, I guess. I need more focus. No, I need, uh. Well maybe I need to focus less. It has only been two days, but I have been taking my therapist’s words to heart and trying to be more in the moment. At least for some moments. At least so I can see the amazing sunrise I saw today and not forget it. At least so I notice how delicious the dinner I made tonight really was. Still I find myself without any real long term plans for the future, and yet mostly focusing on next week, on the week after, like whatever happens some time in the future will make me happy, or, fix something, or, I don’t know, just be different.  And I guess it will be different, but what if I’m still thinking like this after I’ve moved out of Hawthorn’s house? And yet, I feel like I just have too much going on. Like, maybe I’m not waiting for something to happen, but waiting for things to slow down? The last two years feel like they’ve been this endless collision of back to back to back to back to back things, bad things, good things, hard things, confusing things, frightening things, things, things, things. So I am looking forward to moving, but perhaps so I can finally have a calm place to just be. Is it a paradox that I’m waiting for this thing to happen in the future so that I can stop waiting for the future?

I guess, really, that I’m just tired. I’m tired and I want to go home. I’m tired of having places to live and not feeling like I’m home. I just want the next part to start now, it’s okay to be waiting for it and not in the moment, because it is going to be better, because I am going to make it home.

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