It's already March. In a little over a week, it will be three months since I finished school, which is kind of crazy to wrap my mind around. Last summer was only four months long, and I thought that it would never end.
Being at home is so strange. I guess I kind of realized that I was always going to end up here. I go back and forth a lot between mind frames; one minute, I'm really good. Things are great and I still can feel that girl who walked into Lindsey's office on December 12th for the final times. Other times, mainly the night, I can feel sickness and depression and illness seeping back into my bones and I honestly get torn between telling it to shut up and just letting it move back in. Night is the only time that I ever "consider" relapse. That I don't push the thoughts back out.
I emailed Lindsey last week because I miss her. And I hate that I miss her. Because we aren't friends and we never were, and as much as I have adjusted to not seeing her every week, sometimes it is hard. Sometimes, I do miss it. And sometimes I think it would just be so much easier to not send her an email at all. To just cut it all out of my life, but I know that isn't fair either. And so I emailed her and she emailed me back and it cut in all the places that I didn't want it too. I miss her.
I also emailed LB - six years after the fact. After running into her, or well, I guess, seeking her out on Thursday last week, I finally felt like I had enough courage to confront her about what had happened all that time ago. I sent it to her on facebook, and I know she's read the message but hasn't replied. And thats okay too - I told her I wasn't expecting anything from her. But that the door was open. I just feel like a million times better with it all out in the open. Now she knows.
I really thought I had a lot to say today. But I clearly don't.
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