Today for the first time in many years, I looked back and read my first blog entries from 2013. I was honest and safe and so much of my adult self remembers that girl writing those simple fragmented phrases. It was therapy. It was important. 

I need to find my own self soothing ways again. I need to stop running. Life is hard. It’s purely a reality and a truth I need to swallow. I need to learn to live. I need to feel. 

I’m stopping taking antidepressants today. I’m going to take off the bandaid. I need the wound to breathe and to burn and to ache and to fucking heal. 

I need to heal.


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