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 donât know, maybe Iâll never know, and maybe Iâll never let go. Maybe thatâs not such a bad thing. But maybe holding on is also holding me back.
I donât 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. Iâm fine. This is fine. Tomorrow is 27. Tomorrow Iâll let go. Maybe.
Tomorrow Iâll let go.




















