Musing

For someone who's being accused (by my father) of being isolationist, I sure do have a ton of friends. The phone is always ringing, I can always find company, I never have to be alone unless I want to. This past week, I've had people with me on Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. I have had more good conversations, face-to-face, in the past seven days than I had had in the three months prior. I've been having intimate encounters, slumber parties, heart-to-heart chats, movie-watching, intellectual debates, and gigglefests. I feel connected to the city and to people. I've been getting and giving support. I'm not feeling touch-deprived for the first time in I don't even know how long, and although I approach things with a healthy caution, I have no fear and very little self-doubt. I know what I need to do and most of how to do it, and I feel good about where I am and where I'm going.


I'm really, truly happy.