The metamorphosis is beautiful, the way that the days tick by seemingly without distinction, as if time elapses but you revolve on one spot…until you look back, and you realize that all that spinning displaced you, after all. It’s miraculous how a year can see to your downfall…the one that follows constitutes a journey to pick up the pieces, reclaim your identity. A year of revelation and discovery, dejected, difficult, but required, for it brings you into the place you thought you might never see. The year of doing. The year you set out to make things happen, and that they do. In rapid progression. And it’s only February.
I’m riding a caffeine high. The occasional exceptionally good day paints everything in a light angelic to the point that it appears artificial. The brilliance betrays that it isn’t real. But, in spite of the fact that my current bliss makes me prone to exaggeration, I want to document this, because though there are a million problems, a million hiccups, a million miles still to go, it’s important to bask in those rare moments that reward you with a clarity that shines light on how far you’ve come. On the battles that struck you down, yet look how you’ve emerged. You’re floating.
No matter what you’re going through, you will rise again. Know your worth, know your power. Know that I love you.