It’s been a while. How long? That is something that I could totally look up on my website, but eh, I’ll just say “a while” and call it good.

Many things are happening in my life, it seems. A lot of them are good, I’m happy to say. I’ve applied to grad school, I’m learning how to speak more freely about my emotions (which is, in a word, horrifying), my dog is six years old now (she’s still a puppy in my heart), I’ve discovered the art of putting my hair into tiny space buns since it’s shoulder-length, The Bachelorette is back on the air and Joey is the most precious contestant, and I’ve moved to a new house with my roommates. I have read 22 books since the beginning of the year—shoutout to Christina Lauren, Ali Hazelwood, and Emily Henry for coming out with possibly their best books yet—and I’m currently reading The Stand by Stephen King. Or, as I like to call him: Stevie King, like he and I are gal-pals who grab coffee on the weekends and just gab. If you know anything about me at all, and I’m assuming you do if you read this blog semi-regularly or if you have eyes and have looked at the picture posted above, you know that I am a very big fan of Stephen King. I started reading The Stand and watching the limited series under the same name, and I am loving both of them equally. It’s definitely not as creepy as It or The Shining, but it’s a very good post-apocalyptic story. It’s disgustingly hot where I live, so I’ve been reading outside on the porch with iced coffees and the smell of bug spray in the air mostly every day. It’s the best.

Things seem to be on the upswing in my life. The reason being that, I’m assuming, my meds are at a good dosage, I’m feeling really good about how my writing process is going for my novel, and my roommates and I had an intense meeting the other day where we were super honest with each other. The talk was rough but good. Since I hate talking about my emotions and the idea of having a super honest conversation makes me want to hurl, we all decided to take a shot before we started the convo. We dove into how we felt about the move to our new house, how we were feeling about ourselves, and how we were feeling as roommates. Ever since then, I believe that the floodgates of my emotions have opened. And boy, are emotions a horrifying concept for me. Here’s a little breakdown of the past few days:

Thursday: We had the roommate chat. I just went on crying until those precious little tear ducts were absolutely exhausted.
Friday: Some girlfriends came over to have a viewing party for the new season of The Summer I Turned Pretty. We snacked. We drank. We shrieked when “Invisible String” by Taylor Swift started playing during a very, very precious part of one of the episodes. I could feel deep down while watching that I needed to cry, but I was genuinely frustrated with myself that I wasn’t able to shed any tears. As soon as everyone left, I started sobbing in the kitchen. Woof.
Saturday: Some workers came by our house to pick up and dispose of the branches by the end of our driveway, and they had a massive crane, so I was asked to move my car out of the way. Any normal human would think, “Oh, that totally makes sense. I’ll totally move my car right now.” However, I had a freakout over this for some reason, and I couldn’t even tell ya why I was fuming. I then cried another ungodly amount while I was talking to my roommates, and I discovered some important things about myself. We then got boba tea, shopped, and finished the night with a movie that I (regrettably) fell asleep during the last half hour. All in all, it was an incredible day, but I was exhausted from all the crying I had done. It was an emotional workout.
Sunday: I’m happily at a coffee shop, writing to you now. :) The rest of the day is TBD.

Reagan Fleming