it's been 6 years since my mom died.
the first two years: i was pissed. at everyone. and basically everything. and i was pissed at everyone who didn't understand why i was pissed and pissed at everyone who wanted me to be a little bit less pissed.
the middle two years: i was numb. i tried alot of different drugs and liked them. i thought i should probably do something to be skinny so i stopped eating for a bit. and i was still kind of chubby even when i was trying to be anorexic. isn't it ironic, Alanis Morissette? i also cheated on every person i dated. because, i mean, screw it. it doesn't really matter how you treat people.
these last two years: i went to new york. i started realizing that i was good at something. i stopped hanging out with bad people. i moved. i got into grad school. i got a teaching job. i got screwed over a few times and realized it wasn't nice so i probably should stop doing that to people. i got over people who weren't worth my time.

now

i literally leave my house at 7am and i don't get home until 9pm. every day.

and at least 20 times a day i have this recurring thought:

"this is exactly what i am supposed to be doing."

mom, i miss you.
but i'm fine now. i promise.