I think my recent absence needs no further explanation than the state of my leg. I thought for a long time, off and on, whether I should edit them out – my feelings about my scars are conflicted, to say the least, and it’s not my wish to trigger anyone who’s been in, or is going through a similar situation. I’m not sure why I kept them in – maybe because I want these photos to be a starting point for my recovery. Goodness knows, I’ve pulled myself out of worse in the past, but each time my mind and my life grinds to a halt, it takes superhuman effort to drag myself back to the world of the living once more.
Today, I dragged myself out of the house and took photos I didn’t want to. Babysteps towards dragging myself into the light, eventually, someday. The world broke out into a tropical midday thunderstorm right before I ventured out, so I was rewarded by one of those rosy, indolent summer evenings that emerge so fresh and hopeful after the wrath. Rain baby, I’d always been a rain baby, and there’s little I find as comforting as the touch of water. At times I lose myself in old, forgotten body memories of summer, summer rains and water, and then I’m forced to jolt back to the present once more. Because everything that’s good lies ahead of me, and I cannot be lost anymore.
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