Make it to me.

[A/N: I think a lot about where I am now, versus where I used to be; little me would be proud, and so would me from a year ago. A lot has changed, and a lot has returned to its original state. Here's a little something, from the deep end of my thoughts. Enjoy the read, as usual, beloveds.]

I'm taking it slow, I promised myself I would this time. And the time before that, and before that time too, but I know this time it'll stick, I need it to. I hit a lot of lows, many of which I'm still dusting myself off from, but these things happen. The heaviest weight I carried was my disdain for myself, my lack of willingness to love me, to embrace me, ALL OF ME. I spent a good nine months confined to just my thoughts, to waking up every day and making myself remember that this was about me - no one else but me. So yes, I've made it to myself, I'm still making it up to myself but I've made it to myself for the most part.

Home feels...strange. Like everything its supposed to be but, without me, in a sense. I don't know if I'm making sense but home feels like comfort, but the cold kind. The kind that asks if you need a cup of coffee and a warm blanket, the kind that meets you at the door and knows you're not okay but insists you'll be fine - even when you won't be. I sit with myself often enough to know what home I prefer, and often, the home that's in my mind suits me better, its warmer up there, you know?

But I'm here, aren't I? Thriving, waking every day with the promise of another day, no matter how bad the last may seem. I'm regulating, slowly but surely, I'm running some days and walking on other days. I may not take each day on with grace but I take it on, nonetheless. I think that's the point of this whole thing, to continue, to remind myself to continue, to remind myself to keep swimming.

And as for a love life...I'm pretty convinced that's out of the cards for me right now. I've fallen for too many thoughts, too many empty promises and too many men who aren't who they seem to be. I'm okay with that now, okay with falling inlove with myself first, falling inlove with the idea that I am okay, just as I am. One day, when love finds me again, I want it to find me ready, not waiting, but ready. For where it'll take me and how much of myself I'm willing to give, without fear of losing it to the next person I give my all to.

It took me twenty three years around the sun to realize I am exactly who I want to be, I am where I am supposed to be and that, if the universe is capable of anything, it's growth. I'm as sure as a seed sprouting, because the leaves may fall, but come spring, new leaves - new flowers even, new fruits as well - will signify anew.

I'm making it to me, slowly, steadily, gradually.

xo.