It is 11 PM on a working weekday. My sheets are brand new. I am listening to 1940s romantic music, tucked on the right side of the bed after hours of watching Gilmore Girls. My brand-new Hintuturo Bluhen Notebook arrived and my obsession with green and pink colorway has (only slightly) returned. More of the greens, just a touch of pink, a perfect combination.

This is the chapter of my life where taking care of plants bring me joy. This is the chapter of my life where I learn to stop thinking and live more instead. This is the chapter of my life where I am finally understanding what it feels like to romanticize the mundane. This is the chapter of my life where I start taking care of myself seriously (yes, hypochlorhydria, I’m talking about you) after dozens of sleepy spells in the last week.

The weeks are rolling by like a sped up version of a song, blatantly breaking sound barriers, making your ears bleed with little to no shame. How is it almost September? I thought I was forever frozen in January! I am taking each day at a time, slowly but surely; enjoying challenges in every working day, answering each question with poise, with ease. Saturdays are much kinder, as I find myself falling more deeply in love with my partner after each passing day. Sundays are still strange. Sometimes a bit too much. But a little bit more bearable.

On another note, I am proud to say that I have started my healing process. I can see now with clear eyesight how it is to differentiate between what is right and wrong in life and love. It is true that my parents have taught me a kind of love I aspire to have. But at the same time they have also taught me a kind of love I will forever avoid. Being able to understand that without clouded judgment, is to me, a brilliant achievement beyond any aspired perfection.