So for the past few weeks, I’ve been tutoring at the refugee school as usual, helping my mum with some of her work as usual, and I’ve finished my uncle’s memorial blog! I mean it’s mostly done, so from this point onwards all I gotta do is just update it once in awhile when there’s anything new.
I’ve been writing a lot more lately, I just haven’t been publishing them, they’re all very private pieces, safely locked away in my ‘drafts’.
It’s been a long time since I wrote in such an intimate and brutally honest way. I dug so deep it hurt, but I guess it was the good kind of hurt. It was horrible because there were so many things hidden and untouched, a lot of what I should’ve faced earlier.
I feel like I’ve gone back to what I was when I do this. This as in crying when I write, climbing out of bed at 3 in the morning to write, spending hours and hours making the words right, having nightmares and writing about them. What I was as in me. I’ve allowed myself to be someone else for a very long time, and it’s exhausting.
And I feel really good after all that. It was sort of like therapy for me, from me. I needed all that. Everything is not going to be better, they might be worse, I don’t know. But I know I’m going to be okay :) I think.
Image from here.
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