The end of the year is upon us (thank God), and I must admit that it has been the strangest 12 months of my life. I mean, outside of the current political fiasco/hellish nightmare that is our country right now, 2017 was a changeable creature. To go from a pile of dust to a kick-ass, globe trotting, career gal in such a small amount of time is astounding. I'm proud of myself. For the first time in my life I can say, without a doubt, that I am proud of who I am.
I've been here two full days now. My whole life burnt down to the studs and, almost surprisingly, I'm still here. I did not cease to exist. Am I happy?
Tomorrow morning my father is going to rescue his 23-year-old daughter, something I'm not sure either of us saw ever happening.
On Saturday my five-year relationship ended rather abruptly. It hurt. It still hurts. I hate that person as much as I love them. And yet, despite those feelings, I want him to do well. I want him to succeed. I want him to find himself. But where does that leave me?