I have trouble letting go of old pieces of myself. Pieces that have aged. Pieces that no longer fit. Is it sentimentality? Is it hoarding? Is it grief? Is it longing? I don’t know, maybe I’ll never know, and maybe I’ll never let go. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. But maybe holding on is also holding me back.
I don’t know.
Anyways.
Last day of being 26 today. Arguably one of the worst years. The year that finally landed me in therapy. The year that had me heart broken so many times. I’m fine. This is fine. Tomorrow is 27. Tomorrow I’ll let go. Maybe.
Tomorrow I’ll let go.














