On a calm snow day in December 2011, I woke up and began to write about all the remnants in my life. I began to write about all the pieces I would leave behind. What I had done to my life had finally needed to come to a halt and remain in the past where it safely belonged, not dragged into the unwritten present, but inevitably slathered by the wounds of long long ago. I began to write about how I’d let love into my life. I’d let the world love me and I’d love the world. I’d stop rummaging through these thoughts, looking for excuses to use, utilizing past emotions to stir up to justify how I had been for the past years.

“2012,” I mumbled to myself, “will be full of love.”

And who knew that the first day of 2012 would mark a new changing point in my life? Who knew that exact thought would be such a remarkable representation starting on the very first day, the very first hour? It has been almost 8 months since New Years, and still, today, what I had mumbled to myself remains true.

And I look at the sky and joyfully greet it with love, as I always have been, as I always will. And then I blissfully simper at the fact that my life is this way, because it is absolutely everything that I have always wanted.

And more.

Now, “2012” I mumble to myself, “is still full of love.” 

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