And just when you thought life couldn’t possibly get any more weird…it gets infinitely weirder.

Do not let your past define you. Do not let fear confine you. Love always. Love fearlessly. Get healthy. Get honest. And if you feel unsafe, get the fuck out.

The world is a dream. And this too shall pass. Look at the big picture. Don’t get consumed by these everyday potholes and ridiculous scenarios life gives you. Keep flying along. Love is always with you.

I’ve got friends I’ve got health I’ve got words I’ve got wisdom I’ve got experiences I’ve got love I’ve got light I’ve got family I’ve got home. The rest of this shit is just passing nonsense. Don’t fucking give it the time of day. Life will eat you if you let it. Just fucking devour it yourself.

The world is digging you a hole. Breathe a little prayer into it and fucking fill that hole back in with words.

Be a fucking fighter.

Thank god for my mother who dragged me to my house with boxes and helped me finish this shit. It’s a lot to pack up – a whole house worth, and I can’t do it by myself.

Let me remind myself once again that this is better than the alternative. This is better than feeling trapped my whole life. This is better than making an even BIGGER mistake, investing more years and time, getting financially twisted up in something, leading people on even longer. This is hard. But the alternative is even harder. Even harder to unwrap yourself out of. So it’s going to be hard, obviously. That’s a given. But it’s going to be hard now or it’s going to be hard later and we’re already sitting in it so let’s just get to the other side.

Let’s just get to the other side.

I think there’s a lot of assuming of who I am or what I’m going to do or how I’m going to behave based on who I was in the past…or based on over generalizations of how girls are or what have you…and that’s not fair. I’m different.

——

Last night I saw Midsummer. In my theatre. This sacred box which keeps changing its parts but can never change its heart. We said these words on that same stage with our own voices 10 years ago. 10 years ago. And that is a little more than my brain can process. But there it is. I couldn’t help but hear their voices. It’s remarkable how quickly it comes back. And how the intonations, the inflections, the lines we repeated over and over, those things reverberate. The words themselves seem like old friends. Little sacred murmurs. It always means a lot to me. That big dark box of a room. It always heals me, being there. I’d like to go back into the back corner of the room and flop down on that couch and hide myself under that blanket and break down. It felt safe to break down there. Always safe. The room was always holding you. Eyes and steady hearts were always holding you. It was a cocoon, a nest. We learned how to hatch. How to hold ourselves and how to fall apart. We all learned those things together. Different times, different degrees. But we all nestled in the arms of that black box together and learned what it meant to grow. I wish I could feel arms that big again. I keep coming back to that room, after all these years. And sometimes it feels like a mother and sometimes it feels like a child but always it feels like more than a room. It feels more than a series of walls. It feels like some place where my heart is hidden. Smeared everywhere like blood and paint. It feels like a nest. Somewhere I learned to break down. To build up, to stretch out, to sink, to swallow, to speak. Somewhere I learned how to be me.

They let me light the ghostlight because they remembered who I was and they called me to the stage and asked me to do the rituals. And they danced for Kristey and I lit the light and the glow was so eerie. Because we are those ghosts now. We are those 10 year old echoes of this show.

And now we are the ghosts.

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