You'll chop your hair off. You'll dye it blue-black. You'll look in the mirror hoping that the right combination of charcoal eyeliner and swept-off-the-face bangs will remind you of who you used to be. You'll put on the black leggings, the black dress, and the black thigh-high boots; the uniform that used to feel like armor. You'll hope that the reflection in the dirty mirror will become recognizable once again. You're not searching for happiness or even sadness, just probing for the honest body that used to greet you on those cold mornings before you had a long to-do list filled with mind-numbing busy work.
The room will be quiet. The TV will be muted and paused. The playlist silenced. It is here, without a picture to be taken or a word that must be said, that you will feel it again. You will feel what it is like (again) to uncover purpose, to complete an intention, and to do the things that you said you wanted to do. You will remember that the only limitation to your capacity is your unwillingness to do the things you love.
I should have never stopped blogging and/or writing, but this isn't a place where we kick ourselves down. It's a place where you pick yourself up, put on a pretty dress, and say, I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I did exactly what I was supposed to. I am doing exactly what I was meant to be doing. Now, let's do this.