Where am I at? Drawing Luke Hockley.

Where am I at?

Dear Self,

I have started writing this letter to you three times.

And each time I deleted it because I wasn’t writing to you I was writing for some imagined person out there who was going to read it.

But that’s not the deal I have with myself. The deal is I write a letter to myself about where I am at.

So, where am I at?

I don’t actually know.

I’m sitting on the couch after a big week or so and I am ready for bed at 8:30pm.

I don’t think I know anymore than that.

I do know that lying to myself about being able to write something particularly insightful and entertaining is certainly not where I am at right now.

So I won’t be doing that.


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Know someone who would appreciate this letter?

What is Dear Self all about?