“I am finding that life happens in transition. And that the more transitions I navigate through, the more I find that beginnings do not frighten me and that I am instead able to find peace. Peace in knowing that I am talented and capable and that I always find ways to distinguish myself in areas that matter to me. Peace in self assurance. Even if I don’t know exactly what this first day, week or month will entail, I know I will rise to the challenge. Makes all the other nervous transitions worth it in knowing that my success in each has led me to this particular calm.
Beginnings, at least, are much easier than endings.”
— Myself, 15 July 2013
Tomorrow is your birthday. This day last year we celebrated your twenty fifth. We ate at our favorite breakfast place (ALRIGHT) with some of our friends, and then returned home to prepare to have people over to eat and drink and celebrate you.
This week of the year will always be yours. Forever. I can’t imagine even fifty years from now hitting June 3rd and not pausing for at least a few minutes to think of you and remember us. There’s been a lot that’s been shitty in the last four months, a lot that’s been hard in the past eight, and a lot that’s been difficult in the last two years.
I’ve been so mad at you for so many things. None of it really matters. I’ve been mad at myself. We’re still tied together in some capacity even for as much as both of us try to break those ties; they’re going to take time to dissipate. I see how you’re acting now. And I know it’s hurt. And I know it’s fear. And I know it’s confusion and disorientation. And yet, the more you sink into those things, somehow, the angrier I get with myself, that I could have ever had faith in you to be anything other than who you are now.
But that’s not fair, or true or right.