I find it rather a relief

that I have written less, and less. I've taken a step back and counted the many sheets of blue and black ink that I've produced to relieve the emotional stress I have, slowly disappear. The notebook with the many collections of my disoriented mind as begun to collect dust; and I'm so glad to I've given that notebook a rest.

I don't understand how exactly I got to the point where I was so unhappy and so terrible at words that I had to rely on text to release the secrets and fears deep in me to sleep at night. I've calmed down a lot since I've met Jon. I had/have a lot of unsettled feelings living in my heart and as quickly as they came, they are beginning to fade.

I've been sleeping like a kid with no troubles, I've been happy like a child feasting on ice cream, free as a girl picking daisies in a field of flowers. I'm feeling the shackles that I placed on myself, unlock; and I don't plan on ever locking them again.

I'm going through a healing process... and I think... no, I know, I'm going to make a full recovery.