I managed twenty-eight weeks of notes until the habit crumbled in early October. Ever since, I’ve felt an urge to begin again, a missed opportunity slipping from my grasp, yet a call I’ve chosen to ignore. Mounting frustration made it ever easier to find distractions elsewhere. How is it already December? Perhaps it’s silly, but I have sat with this persistent feeling that I need to find an empty space, read back through my entries since last year, and slip into the person I was, as if that m...
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