I fear this summer's going to kill me.

Everything that has happened to me and everything that I've done are a part of me. The good, the bad, the ugly. And since I can't change any of it, I accept all of it wholeheartedly.

Staying alive is a hobby of mine. Making every effort to continue thriving is a revolt against everyone who discouraged me or actively tried to stop me, regardless of their intent. Those who loved me but were stricken with pessimism, those who were impartial to me but skeptical about life in general, and the rare bitter few with actual malice towards me and others.

Last winter was a violent rebirth. This past summer has been nurturing the toddler. Fall I will be fully reborn as a more than capable [REDACTED]-year old.

Crazy how life gets better when you just do the things you've been putting off + approach them optimistically.

I think getting up early is great for my soul: it makes me want to sit in silence, read, breathe fresh air, journal, stretch, maybe paint?? But it's not great for getting sit-down work done. Keep this in mind.

Should I be doing more with journaling? It feels like I've just been writing about the same-ish struggles and contemplations for 1-2+ years now.

There is no point to self-loathing.

It's not about proving them wrong, it's about proving to myself that I don't need to believe they're right

Just existing is enough
Just being conscious is enough

I feel nothing so intensely.