“Build, therefore, your own world.”
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Nothing’s changed, yet everything feels different.
A gift from my mother, befittingly.
The ultimate present.
It’s interesting, in an ironical way, how I feel the most hurt by the ones embedded deepest in my heart. Which makes them the very ones wielding the most potential for allowing my heart intelligence to shine most brightly.
I went spiraling down, for a week out of my mind with grief, the-straw-that- broke-the-camel’s-back kinda grief. Like in the past when I’ve realized, at some sudden point, that I’m no longer in love. Grief and freedom. Emotional freedom.
So when I came to, everything was not the same.
Because I was not.