When I was a kid, I used to visit my grandpa in New York City.
When I was 8, I decided my dream was to live in New York City, just like my grandpa.
When I got to NYC, my first ever boyfriend, whom I loved so much, broke my heart [9.22.06].
And yes, I've lost a lot of other people outside of this stupid beginning of the fall season. And I've come so far from where I was on that last date of loss. Farther than I thought would ever be possible for someone as angry and depressed and pessimistic as I used to be. And even though I used to repeat this narrative to myself over and over as some sort of justification for my bullshit, I now repeat it only as a reminder for my brain what my body is remembering, out of respect for those things and people I lost, and out of respect for the part of myself that grew through it and came out on the other side.