I’m okay here, getting to be better than that, but to feel okay, to be enough, this feeling keeps descending on me like a snowfall. All the jagged black gets a slick, powdery coat — it shines. I’m enough, suspended in the magic veil of this angelic city.
A Sweetheart, Eating Alone In LA

I’m weighing my own move, a decision based more on the weight of my years in the South, on the burdens of my history and the whispers I’m not meant to catch, than it is on the merits of how much more me I feel when I’m elsewhere. I’ve become anything but shy about my proclivity for eating my myself, providing for my own needs and tastes above anyone else’s.

Wandering around a new city by myself, lingering where I’m curious, and vamping from where I’m uninterested is the most peculiar and fulfilling delight I’ve ever allowed myself, and it’s so rare that I have the confidence to embrace it.

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