My physical therapist responds to the break up and says I can have a revenge body if I want one. I ask him instead to help me build a forgiving body. I’ll need muscles, I say, for self-forgiveness. There’s a lot to carry.

I bought everything I think I need to make a linocut print. I’m not certain why or what I’ll do with it, but maybe we can find a way to fundraise for someone.

Wait, that may be too many steps ahead.

Maybe I can make something beautiful.

No… too many steps.

Maybe I can find a way to not harm myself on it.

Yes, let’s start there.

Today I felt better. I spent most of the day in bed. I did some needed cleaning. I talked to myself for half an hour on an IG Live ( . I lit some candles, and chopped at my hair. (It’s still long. Just filled with chaotic and uneven layers.) Later, I’m going to go out to eat with a friend and hopefully eat my first meal of the day.

Tomorrow I think I’ll write to a prompt, and perhaps I’ll do that two or three more times until I feel the rust falling from my fingers, until my writing muscles build into something so gentle my own words can lift me above the clouds.

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