Healing.

Mmmmmmm.

Healing comes with time, rearrangement of furniture, and friends.
It's a peculiar fella.

I'm trying to look inward. Self-reflection is healthy, right?
I over-analyze EVERYTHING. Honest. It may not seem that way, but my every action, your every action, and Johnny Depp's every action is monitored by me. Okay-not everything. But anything that's worth looking deeper into. And I say Johnny Depp because at this moment I am admiring his attractiveness!

I want my nose pierced, and I want "shalom" tattoed on my body. I feel like that strong of a word permanetely attached to my skin-will help me remember. Maybe it'll soak into my blood-stream and cause my every move to have purpose. Weird mood, I'm in.

Healing means moving on, doesn't it? I know it does. I feel that it does. This is real, now. I wrote you on my rock. It says four names on it, and you're number 3. They aren't in any order, but even if they were, you're still on there...written in sharpie. The physical rock that I keep beside my bed and hold onto when I don't feel like my life is solid. Should I cross off your name? Should I throw away your soccer t-shirt hanging in my closet? Should I take you off my bulletin board? Delete you off facebook? COME ON WE AREN'T FIVE YEARS OLD. I'll never be okay with how you dealt with things. Ever. I don't care how you felt, nothing justifies that!!! Okay?! Nothing justifies 6 years of friendship in one text message. In one message that broke a sisterhood. You didn't betray my trust, I didn't break yours. It didn't end in a fight. It didn't in WITH a fight. The explanation wasn't clarified and the motive only seemed selfish. And the worst part is that voicing this isn't making the pain less subtle. I'm not saying it ruins my days, at all. I just try not to think about it, but it's still in the back of my head. It's still all over my walls. On my hands. Written on my rock.

Writing it down doesn't help. Or maybe it does? I'm not going to write it down in the journal you gave me just a month ago. I feel like if I write it down there, we'll be connected in some way. And I know you'd hate that. You read my blog once. A long time ago. When I first started it, and it meant the world to me for you to read it. I know that you'll never read this again, so I feel okay with typing it.

My birthday is in a week. February 5th is sooner. I can't wait for it. I pray with every fiber of who I am...it's worth it. That Friday will change everybody's perspective. I just hope that no one will be hurt by it...only healed.