What can I tell you except that my heart breaks a little? But this has become. Unhealthy. So without (much) drama, but with the ceremony owed to seven years, I am saying farewell. Until we meet again.
I’m sure you’ve known something like this: the thing that didn’t become wrong, but somehow is no longer right. It sits inside that part of you with cowardice and inaction. Procrastination. Reluctance. Maybe tomorrow I won’t feel this way, you think. But you always do. Eventually, there must be an action.
I’m craving somewhere less safe, more permanent. I hope I find it. Until then, I won’t be putting anything new here. My Mental Milkcrate is full to the top.
And so I thank you. Friends, lovers, acquaintances, and passersby. The silent and the effusive. I found my voice in this space, and I’m grateful for all who witnessed, encouraged, and sympathized.
My email is jess(at)mymentalmilkcrate.ca, if you’d like to keep in touch. And I’m “milkcratejess” on Twitter.
Be well. I’ll miss you.
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8 Comments
“I’m craving somewhere less safe, more permanent” sums up this strange virtual world very eloquently, I think. Sometimes the moment comesto go outside.
I hate this and also know the feeling all too well.
Oh no! You’re my favourite blog on the ‘net! I love your writing more than anything else I’ve come across, bummer. I hope you find what you’re looking for.
I’ve just found you and I’m really sad to lose you so soon.
Damn. But all the best, Jess. Really.
I’ll miss this facet of who you are, Jess. And thank you for many years.
I’m sorry too, to see you go, but I have the feeling that I’ll bump into the more permanent you-words some day. I hope so. It will be a great read. Good luck , Jess. x x
DARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRN ITTTTTTTTTTTTTT.
Well, I wish you all the best, Jess. Keep on writing, wherever you are.