Serendipity.

Today.

It was fucking intense.

My stepson died one year ago.

The little me needs...

Something.

Anything.

How long can I be a rock?

For my husband.

My daughters. 

For Myself.

I see 11:11.

2:22.

3:33

I am not looking.

But the signs are there.

On the right track.

My neuroses merging into my husband's.

We are not kids any more.

It's time to shift this shit.

Addicted to trauma.

Without a problem, who can relate?

Enough.

Take a salt bath.

Light a candle.

Play a song that clears my cells.

I take the cross off my back.

It is finished.

And so it is.

Willow x

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