one thing i miss is peace.
maybe i took it for granted?
when i was living in new yawk,
i thought i had too much of it.
ever since i relocated to this new forest…

i’ve been begging for it.

where i stay,
i can’t even enjoy a day off without boundary crossing or inconsiderate behavior.
i can’t even masturbate in peace.

i go to work where i’m dealing with a micromanager who,
even when they’re off and on vacation,
is still watching like a hawk.

you can’t have a stressful job AND a chaotic home life.

pick a fuckin’ struggle.
both is asking too much.

everyone in my current surroundings seems to be asking too much from me.

…and tbh,
it has affected me more than i realized.
the days i do get a little peace,
i hold onto it for dear life.
i’ve spent so much energy surviving daily:

i haven’t had much left over for the things that make me feel alive.

can anyone relate to that?

i don’t miss the old apartment.
i miss the version of me that could sit in silence,
write for hours,
and feel like my mind finally exhaled.
God,
however,
decided to make my life super uncomfortable.
i wasn’t meant to stay in new yawk anymore,
and when i got to this new forest…

i wasn’t meant to get comfortable here either.

mmm.
maybe that’s the whole point of this fuck shit?
sometimes peace isn’t what changes us.

discomfort does.

it pushes us to have conversations we would’ve avoided.
it forces us to outgrow people,
places,
and versions of ourselves we’ve been clinging to.
maybe that’s why i miss peace so much.
it hasn’t been in a season of peace:

i’ve been in a season of becoming.

…and becoming is loud AF before it gets to the peaceful part.