I just spent all morning putting the final touches on the writing for my second book. Big annoucements will be coming soon. I am excited to share this journey with you all. I've been working on this book for a long time, and it's a story and a cast of characters that I care so much about.
I had a pretty emo weekend. I worked a bunch of days in a row, long days, and sort of wore myself out. Then Swoon was packing up and leaving me to head to his climb on mount everest. Him packing up and leaving really toyed with my fear of being abandoned. I still carry that fear with me, everyday. That fear that I will wake up and everything I have known will be a lie and be gone. So to send off my new husband to a crazy adventure and have a empty house, really made me more emotional then I thought it would.
That actually was perfect timing because I got to do most of my finishes on the book. I've been working on this story for over a year, and it's strange how sometimes words that I wrote pop back out at me. I really think liking yourself is the hardest challenge you can face. Being okay with who you are on the inside is impossible somedays. I wanted to share this passage, one of my favorites:
"Only, that wasn’t exactly what happened. Every day I would wake up and all the most beautiful things I actually liked about myself would become less and less. I felt an incredibly heavy nameless weight place itself on every inch of me. My legs were heavier, my thoughts even more so. I walked along the streets, the subways, looking into every single person’s eyes, waiting for the moment when they would realize that they were standing next to someone who was special. They never did.
So, I started chasing things. I chased beauty. The outer kind, where no matter how much you colored your hair, it never actually became any more beautiful. I chased notoriety by becoming infamous for things like flashing my boobs at rock shows, yelling stories at strangers and puking in my shoes at parties. Most detrimental to my soul, I started chasing love. Of course, I had no idea what love was. I assumed it involved convincing someone else that you were desirable, and then you spent every moment trying to make sure they didn’t see through your skin to the truth. It involved sending half-naked photos to almost strangers, trying to appear sexier than I was. I played games and would cat and mouse myself around truths. I was careless. I was obsessive. It was all a big game. I set alarms for when I was “allowed” to respond to my loves’ late night messages. I would say, “I don’t care,” when every part of me cared. "