CVS just one day closed up shop and left my neighborhood. The same could be said of you. I remained a loyal customer and friend till the bitter end.

Never getting a proper goodbye. I would have boughten that last box of pop tarts. I did buy you one last birthday present which I didn’t know would be the goodbye it was.

Nonetheless, I’ve to find peace with the hole that you and CVS have left.

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I’m struggling to finish my personal essay for a graduate school application. I’ve never considered myself a person able to write. Grammar and I have never been in a fluent relationship. I find it laughable I publish my medium blurbs. However, I do this to expel some interal rubbles.

Writing for critque makes me feel overwhelmed with dread. Fear and judgement are at the root of my writing avoidance. I have this sense that my writing doesn’t measure up. I missed my last application deadline. I got upset with myself and then have been avoiding completing it.

I am going to try to get it together by the next. Choosing self compassion over self judgement. Changing the narrative of “nothing is better than something to something is better than nothing”.

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I’m am striving for progress not perfection. Currently, struggling to write my graduate school application. It will not be what I would want but enough. Working through some turbulent emotions but proud of being able to accept and feel.

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I’m on a roll these days of loosing.

I’m sorry for not staying in my lane. I didn’t mean to overstep by getting you a birthday gift.

I wish I couldn’t care. I wish I could express myself. I wish I would just not ask for things.

I guess the joke is on me. I’ve received your message.

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The feeling of paperweight heavy eyes. The feeling of wanting to be surrounded by woods in a secludid cabin on an island in the artic cold. The feeling of the body screaming for deep sleep. The feeling of not enough time, too much to do. The feeling of serene lullabies from your favorite artist.

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aut-a(v)-ba-de — feeling

: the numbness of being unhoused within oneself.

Resisting this discomfort only enhances this feeling. I have to remind myself that suffering is equal to pain + resistance.

I liken the feeling of out of body to a fish being out of water. It can survive for longer than it may believe.

I can emerge myself within my bathub. I place my hand across my heart. I repeat to myself “I love you, I’m listening, I know the darkness calls to you often, befriend it”.

Sit on the couch, sip some chamomile tea, and Sandra Cisneros will lull you into a more neutral place.

aut-a(v)-ba-de

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