I've been watching too many episodes of "Being Erica" in my spare time. So maybe I should write my regrets out on paper. My biggest regret?

February - April Era.

Why? Well I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say I made a series of mistakes and the consequences came just as quickly as the mistakes were made.

And I know this isn't a TV show, so I know there is no taking back what happened. There are no do-overs. I could create a list of regrets, but that seems like it wouldn't help anybody.

So just for future reference, if we are going to work together, you're going to need to invest in a good punching bag. Trust me, it'll come in handy. I mean, I get mad and when push comes to shove, it's either gonna be you or the punching bag. And I think you might want to keep your body in tact.

Anyways, I guess since we're going to be spending these sessions together, you might as well get to know me. Most of my life is driven by 2 things:

Music and my friends.

And so far... one of those categories is slowly going. It's the whole reason I'm in therapy right now. I need your help.

My life is off the rails and maybe I am making too much of a big deal of this. So teach me how to live life on a restart. How to live... alone?

Or just... how to live at all.

So let's just get started shall we? I'll just write away this therapy like I did months ago. And honestly, this coming week will be hell on earth. But I'm willing to take it. Maybe I will just cry about it.

Maybe I won't.

If there are any at all...

2 pages and too many ashes.

The smell of smoke still lingering in the air.

And so another piece of my life falls.

And I don't know where to go from here.

I read back, looking at old texts.

Searching for the moment when things changed. And I found it.

And even if I never recreate the better part of myself.

Those conversations, those meaningful stories, that friendship will always exist.

I mean... it's the eternal bond we share.

I try not to write in past tense. Like there's a chance to be okay again.

And there is.

There always will be.

Because I will never look back and be bitter. I'll look back with a smile.

Because I was honest... and that is the best I can do.

I'll never shut you out.

But we have to meet halfway do we not?

I'm here.

Sometimes the only way into my brain is to read my poetry.

Because talking to people is terrifying. And I don't know how to not be socially disastrous.

I don't know how to stop saying the wrong thing, so I don't talk. For fear of saying the right thing at the wrong time. And so far, I have become a train wreck of my mistakes. So I write.

So you're reading my life on pages. And this is real.

I can tell you with absolute certainty that these are my honest thoughts.

I know there is no good explanation for my actions.

I know there is nothing I can say to fix what happened.

But I'm willing to try again.

I'm willing to try.

I know I upset you. And I get why. But I am not strong enough to tell you face to face, so my thoughts end up here.

And that may not be the best thing I could've done.

I know.


...I know.

I wrote the date at the top of the page.

And nothing else.

I flew into this day from the second flight and stayed up the entire day.

And yet...

I wrote nothing.

From here to Paris.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To Paris from here.