Homecoming

The past 5 years have been…extreme. There were far too many times I felt compelled to write, and yet there was no one place that quite felt right. A paper journal, prosebox, live journal. Nothing was safe or reassuring. False accusations, prison, accomplishments, chaos, depression, and suicide attempts. Years of extreme ups and downs but no single place to drain the emotions held captive in my soul.

Now? I feel like I have come back home, and yet it’s a lot like returning to my childhood bedroom years after I’ve moved away from home. It’s familiar, but it isn’t the same. I want to fall back in to old routines, but it isn’t quite as comfortable. It looks like a new coat of paint; the same place but brighter.

Paint hides imperfections. And memories. It takes away from the feeling of security.  How do I trust bright?  How do I just continue when things are no longer the same? This diary, this life. My emotions, my trust, my sanity.  I’m not the same person. OD isn’t the same. It’s a shiny facade of once was; a perfect analogy for my life as well.

I have wanted to share for so long, and now that OD is back, I am hesitant. I trust so little and the thought of exposing myself and risking people really knowing what I so desperately need to regurgitate is frightening.  The bully mindset of society certainly doesn’t help.

Lawd.

As a side note, I am slightly horrified by the entries that have been restored thus far. I don’t know if I am quite ready to read 17-25 year old me. Ok. I’m ready, but I’m internally cringing like WOAH. 😂😂

It is so weird to be back, y’all. So stinkin’ weird! But? I look forward to connecting with those of you I was never able to find on facebook. I am sure life has taken many of you to crazy but wonderful places.