I have no more room for emptiness. My days are jam-packed with barely any space to breathe, but it's a good kind of jam-packed, like a cat smushing itself into a tiny box because it feels great. Everything has changed. Every. Single. Thing. For years every bone was not full of marrow, but rather, thick, black, filthy sludge. Hair unraveling threads spilling from my brain, falling out and frayed and splintered. Eyes bleary, nerves always past being on edge - beyond the edge, cutting through the fabric of existence they were so beyond everything. Every day a rerun of the same horrors, over and over and over and over and over and over yet again, and then once more still. Then somehow after all the struggles, fighting and clamoring and scratching and scraping, looking for any glimmer anywhere, barely clinging onto the cliff of the abyss by a tiny sliver of a pinky nail, I pulled through, and I'm here now, in this new place. This very special place. Grounded now. At peace now. Where once there was always noise, now there is silence. It's been magical. It's been a lot in its own way, but magical nonetheless.
My days are jam-packed with projects and things to do and rooms to occupy. Plans to make them me, with many steps to get there, decisions to make, then all of the endless work to do. So much work to do. My body aches and I'm exhausted, but it's great and its own reward.
My days are jam-packed with squirrels, and birds, and apple trees, and new flowers, and shrubs, and so much digging in the dirt, sweeping things, putting things away, painting things, buying new things to make each space just so. Workers as my only guests, coming by to do things I am unable to do myself in exchange for currency. The small talk can be nice with strangers who help you out and make your life a little easier.
My days are jam-packed with work. Busy as always, growing, evolving, trying to stay focused when my attention is everywhere else. But I try to do it all, because I have to.
My days are jam-packed with the most beautiful dappled shadows you've ever seen, from the most beautiful giant spruce trees, with their feathery, drooping limbs that glide effortlessly with every breeze, so easy and strong and tethered.
My days are jam-packed. Occupied. Full.
I have no more room for emptiness.