I wish I could tell you that you have to do it a certain way. That you have to read a certain book or take a certain trip. That you will be rewarded with a moment of beauty that changes your life, that unlocks the happiness inside of you, if you just do this or that. I wish I could tell you that you will heal in four months, or two weeks, or by next Monday if you really try. But I can’t. I can’t. For if there is anything I have learned about moving forward, about letting go, about becoming the person you want to come, it is that it happens in the quietest moments. Growth creeps into you, it burrows and it stretches, it cracks you open from the inside, and one day you wake up and you really connect with the fact that you are happy to have opened your eyes. Once day you wake up and all you feel is intense love; you almost don’t know how to deal with all of the softness blooming from your fingertips. Hope pours out of you onto sidewalks, and into the arms of your lover, and into the words you write and the art you make and the depth of your laughter. You feel so damn lucky to be alive, and you don’t really know it happened or when it did. You don’t really know where the shift occurred or what was responsible for it. But I don’t think you ever will, because happiness was never something you were going to find. Instead, it was something you were going to become.