It's not that I haven't written anything, it's more like I don't know how to finish writing any of the things I've started to write. I feel good about my life, I feel good about the way things look, I feel strongly that leaving California was the right thing, I feel like I miss the weather there but it wasn't worth my loneliness or mental health, I miss being alone kind of but I am so grateful to see my sister and my best friends all the time and I never have to be alone. I am bored in a lot of ways but also grateful for this time of peace because I think pretty soon my life will be crazy again and really it was crazy for a minute there when I was an elf. I am not interested in giving of myself right now because I can't, because I am still weak, because I am still recovering, and I hope that what comes of this process is good, and maybe important. For now, I am grateful grateful with hands in the air and also extra hands to hold the people who have been holding me and extra hands still to type with and to write with and to make spinach salad with every single day. I have learned how to make coffee, and I've written a poem, and I've accepted a job. And for the first time in so long I feel truly happy to be alive in my body and in my self because of who I am. Being miserable is so confusing when it happens for so long because you begin to wonder if you existed in the first place. And after a very long time, it begins to feel more and more like you never did and you just watch yourself doing all these things and you hear yourself talking to all these people and it feels like nothing. Nothing is still something though and I hope that that somethingnothingness was for something. Okay.