Like getting out of bed. Like saying, I miss you. Like shooting manual. Like booking a doctor’s appointment – for your knee, for your brain, and for the scars that you carry.
Like deleting an app. Like lacing up your running shoes for the first time in months. Like surrendering. Like getting on a plane in brand new hiking shoes and ready to throw up. Like apologizing. Like letting go of the confused feeling of almost-love.
Like failing. Like sitting down at your desk and writing the words. Like going on an adventure with strangers who have kind smiles. Like asking for help. Like sending out that e-mail. Like sitting with the uncomfortable parts of yourself. Like being soft and open and ready to be hurt, yes, but also, ready to be seen, and held. Like forgiving yourself.
Like falling : the split-second of slow-motion and wild heartbeat, your feet tripping and slipping, the bang of a bruise. Like reminding yourself of your own, paper-thin mortality (do not do it on purpose, though).
Like sending your words out to be read and trusting that they will be taken care of. Like saying things out loud. Like standing in the middle of a suspension bridge far above the ground. Like unraveling mechanisms that used to hold you together. Like asking for a hug.
Like acknowledging that life will never not be this sprawling, dripping mess. Like saying, You matter. Like hitting Publish. Like showing up. Like committing to be here, in this space, for one hundred consecutive days. Like trusting.