Learning How to Breathe Again.

Thanksgiving has come and gone. This is the first one I have spent alone in 7 years ... now before you feel sorry for me, let me preface this by stating I did have my family with me this year. It's the loss of a familiar face I am referring to. It's difficult to explain how hard it is to learn how to be on your own again. It's like a small piece of you has been removed and replaced with another new and unfamiliar part. For me, it seemed like the best thing for my sanity was to start new traditions for the holiday's so that I wouldn't be burdened with the loss of my former life and the memories held within. So I spent my day doing things that I should have been partaking in my whole life. I laughed all evening with my father and cooked with my mother. I baked the WORST pumpkin pie ever, which is so unlike me. I may not be Rachel Ray, but I can bake a mean pumpkin pie. Not this year. And for the first time in a while I started to remember who I was prior to the upheaval of my life. So for this Thanksgiving, even though it may be a few days late, I would like to give thanks to my crazy family and the return of "Scrubs". Long live Zach Braff.


xoxo

Where it's all going ...

I need to continue writing. I have the fever, but the premise has changed and the characters are different. Love no longer lingers on the tongue of this fervent author. When I began my little project I was certain that I would be describing the life of two people who lost their way, yet eventually found the way back to each other ... the way back home. But now it's so much more than that. It's losing yourself in a life you thought would be yours forever, but instead was there for only a glimmering moment in time. It's about being wrong and realizing that love is painful and grotesque, and does not consist of a storybook ending created by the likes of star crossed lovers.

I can honestly say that I hope this love I had experienced, not too long ago, was just a glimpse of what could be. I long to find someone I can be entirely passionate with ... someone I am willing to fight for and is willing to do the same. And that is what I will focus on in this never-ending story: the possibilities that come from the ashes of our pain. Rising up, defeating all, if for only the want of knowing it is not just an ideal created by fiction. I need to continue writing, so I can make myself believe in love again.

"Love is a canvas furnished by Nature and embroidered by imagination."
- Voltaire