moons. touch. me.

While I didn’t mention Monday’s super moon… it mattered.

Now that my space is sacred and empty, it’s like I’ve constructed a 21 story high spiritual dojo. I still put the recent turn of my betterment (after that) is put down to her. Something touched me that night.

I cannot tell you the value of getting my head right. The two people I still speak with after my dip are also very happy that all that is finished now.

It was bad.

There are a lot of ways that I can tell I feel like me again. The fact that I can move in 15 minutes if I want is important. Also, after being back here in Manhattan after four years away – I’m finally proud of what I’ve achieved.

I low key think I’ve been torturing myself over my husband the whole time, and that somehow the luthier fucked up any progress I made getting past that when he came in with a bullshit “love” story.

Anyways. This morning I made black coffee for a tattooed companion before kissing his cheek and sending him off to Brooklyn.

Then I walked the puppies in the pink winter sunlight. The sun beats right down my street. If you’re around tomorrow around 6.30 am, I highly recommend standing in the center of 44th street facing east – somewhere starting at 3rd Avenue.

I feel home. I haven’t felt that way since I got back. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that on Earth, actually. At least I’ve returned to a place where I can feel nowhere and everywhere at once.

Also, I’ve been blasting this in my ears for a minute:

“Everything good, like it’s post to be.”

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