I really miss letting my little self out and playing with her.

The closer these things come to becoming a something the scarier it gets. Tons of what ifs and lots of buts, but mostly the dread of settling in, that period of disarray before everything finds its place, becomes comfortable. And I don't mean materially, arranging and rearranging and organizing and setting up is my absolute favorite part. It's more about the minds of the inhabitants, it's more about finding the light switches in the dark and no hesitation in your steps to the bathroom in the late, still hours of sleep times. It's about the subtle, subconscious sighs that don't even register with us anymore when we enter the door, hang our coats, slip our shoes off and drop our days. I don't want it to be a new habitat for our habits, a continuation of what is, what we are; I want it to be a vessel. Each day ushering in chance after chance for a new evolution.

What if she and I are strangers after so long apart. What if our time is forced, full of awkward silences, nostalgic glances. What if it's never an anything ever again.

Merry. Happy.

All I really hope for anymore is reincarnation. If I could have my way, I'd come back as something small, not in size but in consequence; a blade of grass, monopoly money, anything that can't betray itself. A chance to exist correctly.

Looking back to one year ago, how much smaller my kids were, how different I felt, what my days and nights consisted of. Most of the time I can't breath anymore, if I start to cry it's nearly impossible to stop. Struggle to struggle less, squirming at the thought of starting another year in this way, I want to be able to file the hardships away, so looking back I can say 2011 was a bad year and leave it all there. I still don't feel like I'm moving in any direction, time always goes faster after my birthday and before I even realize it's almost Christmas. I started a completely new sketchbook/journal today. It felt good to have sticky fingers and touch pen to paper again, it's been so long.

If I'm really honest with myself, I'd do everything differently from age 6 1/2 on. I remember the exact moment I walked in to my new room on Meyer Lane and how I felt and what I thought, all the possibilities surging through me, even so young I was always bursting out of myself.

Everything since that moment has been a disappointment. At least I'm done blaming other people.