Back to It

I’d been in bed for days. My iPod was a graveyard of the saddest songs I could find. I was eating whatever strange shit was left in the fridge. At some point you just can’t stay there anymore, even when you’re not ready.

People would say it’s too soon, that I should’ve waited longer, been darker about it, locked myself away for months. But that’s not how it works for me. I don’t think it was ever supposed to work that way.

I’ve got her voice in my head, this sweet thing that stays. That’s what matters. I want to thank everyone who showed up, even people I couldn’t write back to. Some of those messages meant everything. They opened something that had gotten shut, got me standing again. Most of them went unanswered, but I felt them.

So now it’s forward. Third semester starts soon, second year of the training. There’s so much I can still work on—myself, my discipline, my fire. At school, at the agency, in everything. There’s a lot of life there if you’re looking at it right.

This website is coming back, but different. Familiar and new at once. Not perfect—there’s still work everywhere—but I couldn’t wait. I needed to start.

It sucks that you can’t see what comes next. But I’m going to make you proud.