Isolation creates words.

I try not to keep my thoughts secret anymore.

That's kinda what this blog is for. If I can't speak it, I can write it.

I re-discovered songs that make me thing of my dad and long road trips and the wind and rolled down windows and new car smell dancing in with cigarette smoke with you last night.

You let me read your secret thoughts the other night.

We talked about my aunt who could make the most pissed off waitress laugh by talking about the holes on the top of the salt shaker and could level you with her laugh because you brought up Etta James.

You inadvertently told me that you love me.

We talked about how when Christmas comes around I see a light in my dad's eyes like he's a child in a decaying body.

I didn't flinch.

I thought about how I've never had such a superficial yet still amazingly deep and touching conversation with anyone before.

I'm not sure if you realized it was in there.

I didn't flinch.

But it made me think.

I'm damaged goods as I sit here typing.

There's cracks in my heart and head and maybe that's why all my thoughts and feelings are leaking out.

I haven't decided if this is an improvement.

I haven't figured out if my baggage is a snug backpack full of the essentials or an incredibly heavy and inconvenient carryon of a closet-hoarder that you can barely close the airplane luggage door on.

The word "love" scares me.

Partially because it seems so far away.
Partially because it seems so very near.

I don't know about love right now.
I don't know if I'm capable of that yet.
We'll see though.

Because I know that I care about you something fierce.
I know I like you a lot. Like, scary a lot.
I know that your laugh makes me laugh
Your smile makes me smile
And when you cry it fucking tears me apart.

I don't know if I love you yet.
But I know you mean the world to me.

And I hope you'll stick around long enough for me to figure everything out.

Weiner Dog Tank.

A lot can change in 111 days.

A life can be flipped around in 111 days.

I'm living with my girlfriend and one of my best friends and her mom and gramma and my dog and their dog now.

I'm coming home smelling like pizza.

I've got tickets to a concert in Chula Vista, California.

I've got my own car.

I talked my dad out of killing my mom.

My parents are going to rehab.

My hair's a bit longer now.

I've got a few new tattoos.

You ever have emotional flashbacks?
Like, the emotions you feel during the flashbacks aren't relevant anymore, and you know for a fact you don't feel them anymore.

But when you get hit with a song, or location, or just a familiar sensation, you feel it all again.

I've had those a couple times recently.

They were opportunities to remember the good times but replace my first thought with them from you to her.

I'm gradually replacing you in my mind.

Casually bringing you up in conversation was the first time I thought of you in weeks.

It's 112 days now.

I'll never forget you, that's impossible.

But I don't think about you.

I don't worry about you.

And when I hear My Only Swerving, or eat cajun food, or look at my dog, it's not you they remind me of anymore.

It's falling asleep on my best friend's couch and being so fucking glad that I found sanctuary in this new person who didn't really know me or owe me a god damn thing.

It's going on a spontaneous food adventure with Mason and Kat, and talking about Deadpool and porn the whole time, laughing our asses off.

It's relief that Callie now has a new friend to run around with and play with and teach and expel energy with in this big new yard with her big new friend.

I've got a Weiner Dog Tank on my arm and he's saving me from emotions I don't feel anymore.