The blog is back. Idc idc.
I've been upping my journaling game the last couple of months, but there's something about writing for an imagined someone out there. Typically I write on here like my mom is the person who's reading me. Now my mom is dead.
When she was dying, I spent a lot of time laying (lying? She would known which was right.) in her bed with her. And she spent a lot of time on her iPad. I learned that she had a habit of opening Instagram, going to my profile, and scrolling through my grid, stopping to (re-)read all the comments. I also learned that my blog was her homepage. She loved me so much and just delighted in the shit I put on the Internet.
I don't know what happens when we die, but I do know that if it's at all possible for some essence of my mom to be reading this post, it's happening. Hi Mom! I'm going to start writing stuff here again. I am. Plz help if u can.
