One day I'll stop filling his phone with insane texts.
Sad drunk texts.
Sober freak-out texts.
The-walls-feel-like-they're-closing-in texts.
What-the-hell-am-I-doing-with-my-life texts.
On that day, I will have my life together. I won't spontaneously burst into tears over the thought of leaving. Or over the thought of not leaving. Or when I have messed something up. Or when I don't have enough of something. Or when I say something wrong. Or when I think about moving away from a close friend. Or when I'm watching Anthony Bourdain sit on a plastic stool eating noodles in his happy place.
On that day, I will be in control of everything I feel. And everything will feel quiet.
That day could be happening already, actually. That day can be happening now.
The things in your life that feel like grenades. They could blow away everything that isn't serving you. And they could create space for you. Space to play and feel joy again.