I feel like I have allowed the death of many parts of myself in the past few months. As if I'm a spider having to let go of the old exoskeleton since I can't really fit inside of it anymore. And although I'm constantly mourning my old self, it turns out this process is not as painful as it seems to be. Some parts of my mind are completely shattered — they have been for a while now —, but somehow I feel like clarity is blooming inside of me.

I've been feeling and thinking and growing and one day I'll be ready to expand, although it may not be so soon. Letting go of an old exoskeleton is a very slow process indeed. All is well, though. I'm not broken and I'm not stuck. I am still.