Good Days

What's to be said that needs to be read?

It's been nearly two months and I'm happier than I've been in a decade or more. It's strange to type, it's strange to think, it's disorienting to feel. As if I'm betraying the person I've been for so long.

But these people. This town. This life. It all fits.

In a journal, the blue journal I bought after the gun a few years ago, I've written about the lake. I've written about love. I've written about work, tarot, hope, and here in unpublished posts I've written about the fire and darkness. 

All of these ingredients, swirling, changing, growing. Becoming

(a life)

(a future)

something more. 

What's to be said that needs to be read? I don't know. Maybe nothing, but in my chest there lives a great need to declare. A need to scream out. A need to acknowledge loudly and earnestly and gratefully that these are good days. 

So;

These are good days.

And I am thankful.