Remember the Tunicates!

Okay, okay, okay.

I'm young. I'm beautiful. I'm single. I'm at the start of my career. Enough of this moping shit.

I went grocery shopping, painted the bedroom, had my first appointment with my therapist... who I think will help me process all of this loss and pent-up anger immensely. Finished all of my extremely late homework and turned it in with absolutely NO excuse and a sincere apology.

It's been a beautiful couple of days. Perfect weather. I've been out walking a lot, and breathing, and watching people. I'm allowing myself to fully and thoroughly miss each of my grandparents, my godfather Paul, and, suddenly and all afresh, Sean Sole. This pain is a lesson. Often I'll catch myself talking to Sean out loud, asking him for advice, telling him stories I remember about our friends. I can hear him in my head, crystal-clear, over three years after his death: "I love ya, Sarah-Belle!"

I still ache inside, I still feel heavy all the time. But I don't feel like this will get any worse. And that's a blessing, right?

I can only go up from here.