The finality of nothing/the openness of everything

So 21 February is actually 21 December.

And I haven’t decided how to react.

Actually ‘decided’ sounds pretty silly. I mean, why not just tell the truth? But then, what is truth? From which beginning?

I’m all talked out already. No point going over all the recriminations, all the hurts, disappointments and time wasted. To me, that’s just dwelling on the past, when my overriding desire is to move on.

To me, the D affair drags me back to a place I’d rather not be, anchors me to a stagnant limbo, death by not dying. I know it’s something I need to deal with. I can’t wait to cross this threshold. Even though it will be a difficult path, I must walk it and know there’s an ending, and feel the sense of an ending with every step.

Hold on.

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