Here’s to just beginning.
Just fucking beginning.
The desire to create this space has existed in my mind and heart for well over a year. My mind would ask,
“but for who are you writing?”
“but can you share all you’d like without the truth hurting others?”
“but it has to be perfect. Set up this way. No, this way.”
Enough.
So here I am, imperfectly beginning. Writing from hour 9 in my bed, day one of my bleed, starting off with a photo of my foot covered in soil- taken while sobbing next to a Japanese fountain.
I take it back. This is the perfect beginning.