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A drop of memory births the story of me

I've been staring at a blank screen for too long now and every time I try to write something with meaning, I fail (or talk about my a-hole cat FIM) (he's watching me) (yeah I'm talking to you, jerk) (I was telling him, not you, friends). Anyway, yesterday I shared something traumatic I'm going through and it wasn't as easy as it seems to spill all. I pride myself in being as honest as possible, but sometimes it backfires and I end up feeling guilty for having shared at all.

And I have a confession.

I will not stop trying to make a baby, because I believe it will happen. I will not stop missing my father, but I will learn to heal. I will not stop querying, because I feel deep in my gut, no matter how much I sometimes want to throw in the towel, my agent is out there. And yours is too.

I lied.

I don't actually believe that second baby will ever come, maybe I will never heal from the loss of my father and it's a very real possibility I will not land an agent. That is my current, neurotic reality. I hope I'm wrong. I say what I say, less for me, and more for you. So YOU won't give up. So YOU will make something of yourselves and be everything I wish I could be.

As for me, I have yet to find my footing from this more than minor stumble through life. I've always been honest with you, friends, and today is no different. No matter what lies ahead for me, you have to fight. Fight like it's your last chance, your last word, your last breath. I sure as hell want to. Do it for me, for you, for every bad thing that's ever happened to you and for every feeling of self-doubt you want to punch in the face.

But right now, I've realized, I'm temporarily out of, yaknow, fight. At least until my a-hole cat gets OUT OF THE AISLE (seriously, find a new spot to lay). FRIENDS LISTEN: I love you. More than I ever thought I could love different spawns of life from across the globe (whom I've never met). You are my MEDICINE too.

So, I'm going to do something I've been wavering on for some time: Write the story of me. With these memories, these words, how can I not?
Candyland. OUT.
P.S. Wow...thank you to every one who has reached out in this devastating time. The emails are empowering, the phone calls make me smile when I don't feel like it, the posts make me feel like I'm not alone, like what I say and do does matter, and let me tell you, I'm so humbled by the friends I've found through writing...
Thank you.

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