I spent all week working on a post about the thing that happened on January 13. And today, I decided that it's not worth it to woe is me about anymore. I'm feeling motivated about my house. I'm getting shit done. I'm still...me, which means my mind and heart are nowhere near where I wish them to be, but it's okay. How many people can actually say they do and get everything that they want?
Life is good. That's all that matters. And whether it's six more months, or six years or sixty, I know who I am and that I am worthy. Whether he realizes it or not is inconsequential.
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