It has been almost two months since I’ve posted anything and the natural tendency is for my friends to think I’m stuck neck-deep in a pit of drowning despair and unable to move.  On the contrary I haven’t stopped moving since January 1st at 12:01am.  I left a New Year’s Eve party determined to leave 2014 far behind in the rear view mirror with a thick cloud of dust between us as I sped away.  I put my (his/our) house on the market and started looking for places closer to my friends and the life I had all but deserted when I met Jason.  I realized by remaining in this (his/our) house I was stunting any possibility of moving forward, a decision that really has no choice in it at all except the alternative of a slow death.  I’ve received some criticisms that perhaps I am moving too fast because it hasn’t been a full year, but they don’t understand how just one single minute of intense grief and sadness seemingly steals years from a life.  And I was okay with my life expectency being wittled away with tears and loneliness because I didn’t really want to be here anyway.

But I actually enjoyed my New Year’s Eve and my “Fuck 2014” t-shirt seemed to capture a shared sentiment amongst my friends, so I felt like I belonged in a pack again.

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