I've NEVER not noticed a 12th of the month before.
What is that supposed to mean? (13 months by the way, in case you were wondering)
Maybe it's like new parents–they count their babies age in days, then weeks, then months, then years.
I hope that's a good thing for me. A positive sign of moving on.
Frick.
I have stuff I have to do. Things I NEED to write before I the memories start to fade–or fade worse then they are already. (Boo. Things are fading away already. His voice. His face. Him. I don't like it.)
I feel tethered. Like my forward motion is dependent on writing all those things. Getting those things done.
I find it really easy to avoid it though. Why make it hurt when I'm so comfortable and happy 98% of the time? Why open that wound back up and dig into it when it's healing fairly well?
I just can't have those things over my head all the time. I can't move on and progress to where I need to be when I have these things grabbing onto my belt loops and pulling me back.
I've got to buck up and face it.
Got to.
Must.
I will.
