Back… from Outer Space

So, I took a little trip and failed to blog because, well, it feels like I’m trying to get my life put into a box. It never ceases to make me super nostalgic whenever I move, picking up what I want to bring, flipping through pictures is definitely the worse. Pictures of me in my previous hobby, horseback riding, and looking at how… happy I was. But, even more so, how there is so much more of a spark in my eye, a definite happiness that is untouched by any other horses as I was with my horse.

But, it’s just like reopening a wound, putting salt in it, and rubbing it in with some sand too. I’ve given up that profession, and it makes it even more true to me with losing what I had. There is not one picture that fits with the connection I had with my horse, with the unsaid joy, and moving on is not an option. There is no replacement, and because of that, there is no going back to it. No one even knows that I had to put my horse down, and I’ve tried to exclude any talk of horses, of horseback riding, or knowing anything to do with the hobby.

I have so many horse books, so many journals with hearts drawn around the word ‘horses’, that I don’t know if I should at least bring some of my beloved horse books with me… but, I can’t stand to see them. It’s got me between a rock and a hard place, and so I’ve been looking through years and years worth of books, journals, and pictures of me with many different horses, and the one I loved the most, my horse.

And yet, still, I have more stuff. 4 big crates and I have more to go through. It seems like a black hole, it’ll never end!

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