And so I shed and grow.

As I sit on nearby Park Benches that line the apartment complex's property, I smile. It's long past sunrise and I've yet to go to bed. I've stayed up all night, doing something – or rather letting something happen. I let baggage go. I did not do what I did with that intent, but things sorta worked themselves out.

It's a strange feeling, letting things happen. It seems meant almost. Taking away the cancer. But without it, I'd never discovered the healthier parts to the whole of me. Yes, I'm waxing poetic. No I'm not high. Hear me out.

But it feels good. At first it felt uncomfortable. I put my feelings out along that set of Picnic Tables, the long worn ones that are ringed by simply made Adirondack chairs - and had them tossed back into my face. I felt unappreciated, and grossly misunderstood at best, directly lied to at worst. But funny enough, those that cared, that KNEW me and honestly liked being around me and themselves as equals instead of just being selfish and for themselves emerged. They supported and they defended.

They didn't have to. But they did.

Right now I'm swaying on some playground equipment. It's absurd, big old me on these silly swings. But I feel as free as the wind now. No black looming cloud. No arguing with a person filled with delusion. It feels great. It feels calm. I can now face this year with steady work, a place to live with only the guy at my side, and a relationship that may just work again.
I am happy. So happy.

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