West side apartment grows lonely and dark

Without really realizing it, I've become an adapter. I've been lauded for (and accused of) embracing change easily in the past, but only recently have I realized that it's true. My hair changes - not cyclical exactly, and its style's origins not always easily traceable. What seems like a bazillion different jobs in the last oh-so-turbulent six months. A real love, inherently broken and tender and rough around the edges and sometimes beyond, just like I never knew I always wanted. A series of new shoes (a small thing for some.. sometimes the thing that matters most to me, believe it or not).

I'm easing up on the 'what kind of person am I' 'I am a bad person a good person I am this kind of girl and I always will be or never, maybe' thing.

My e-mail signature is one thing that hasn't changed in over a year. It says 'everything I'm not made me everything I am.' And it does. And it did. And I am.

As for the title of this here blurb, it speaks to a happy realization and acceptance much more than it seems to. "Don't Haunt This Place" by the Rural Alberta Advantage. As for now (always incorporating then, to be sure), the advantage is mine because I have permanent honesty carved in cursive along the length of my left arm, pointing out toward the exit of my hand, stopping short of the veins of the wrist I would never think to hurt again.

Up next, last stop this town

xoxo