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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

The North, part 1.

New Post.

I've been safely transported to the North of Ontario. I haven't unpacked anything other than to do laundry. Shortly, I will be leaving to see a new doctor since my old one doesn't think it's a good idea to attempt treatment 600 kilometres away. Silly doctor. Nervous about new doctor, but then these things have to be done.

Anything to stay even.

Am I even? I don't know. I fill my evenings with old episodes of Angel and sleep (when I can get it). My mother and stepfather try to fill my days with lists of chores and household work. Neither seem to be working. I was bored before I got here.

Maybe I just need to accept that I'm not supposed to have fun. That I'm just where I need to be. I fall asleep to old Matt Good or whatever is playing on my laptop.

It's not all bad. It started snowing last night. Silver pieces of frozen water that drifted to the ground and stayed where it fell. One centimetre worth. And the quiet. It's quiet here. I don't know if I like it, but there it is.

Also, Buckley loves it here. He gets to go outside 50 times a day and prance around in the snow. He gets to sniff out dead bats and play with Marble. And Marble. He sleeps under my covers every night, just like we used to.

Anyhow. It takes an hour to get anywhere around here. So I'd better get going.
I bought a wireless router but would you believe....I forgot it in London.
Yeah...I'm a smartie pants.

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