Weightless.

That’s what I fell for. It’s not like I became an entirely new person, or even a new version of myself. It was more like I learned how to set things down. 

It began in late July. I left a few things behind the moment I boarded the first flight. And then slowly, overtime, it’s as though I began setting down more and more, until it felt like most of what I was carrying was confined to the contents of my backpack. Some things just seemed to slip my mind, others I carefully and selectively removed. 

I think there’s something to be said for removing yourself from your surroundings. Taking a step back – maybe a very large step back – and looking at everything from a distance. Trying to sort through the wreckage. Trying to organize the chaos. Trying to maintain the good. 

I spent three months trying to decide what I wanted to keep and what I wanted to let go of – what I needed to change. I came to a few conclusions. Others I may never come to. But I think during those three months I found a greater sense of peace than perhaps I’ve ever really, truly, known. I don’t remember the last time I felt so weightless.  

I didn’t know what I was searching for, but I might have been searching for this.

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