Around this time last year I thought I was going to die, and I nearly did.

I still carry with me the weight of grief but i've come to terms with the idea of pain.

I hoped I would appreciate the small things, and cherish the good days and thrive on the great ones.

But I am just a lump of mush some days, and my belligerent self the others. I need God, I need K, and I still need to travel.