Everything I own is currently packed away in bags or boxes in a warehouse somewhere I’ve never seen out there in the great city of Chicago. Some things are with me, mostly the essentials, filling every spare corner in my parent’s house. Parents. Plural. I still can’t bring myself to exclude my mother even though it’s been a year since she passed away. I don’t know what that means or says about me, but I just can’t do it.
I’m supposed to be starting over. Creating something new for myself, having left my old life behind. It was my choice. And now it has to be my journey, even if I’ve changed my mind. Sometimes, you can’t go back. Because done is done is done.
I feel such a vast disconnect with the littlest parts of me spread all over every damn place. How can I start over in pieces?
I just want to feel whole again. Reconnected.
Hopefully in this new year, through sheer willpower, I can.
