I’m living in increments of rest. In between my rituals that keep things sane. Keep things moving. Keep things feeling okay. I am far from ordinary. My tasks mean nothing but my emotions are big. They take up space and fit together like puzzles pieces. I’m coming undone from the inside out- my veins twist and turn and beg me to stay still. If I could shed this layer of myself then I’d fall endlessly into a place that feels like home. I’d soak up the days and call them as my own. To live fully sometimes means living endlessly and I don’t know where to begin outside these walls. I count the dust specs collecting on the window and think of different ways to prevent it. How the heat makes me sick and summer just doesn’t feel like how it used to. We’re just reaching for something that feels like home- that’s why we cross old streets and linger in spaces we once heavily occupied. Adding to the rituals in between some sort of rest. -AMT