I'm checking my notes one last time for any lines I wrote down in moments of inspiration.
but that isn't real.
the truth is, figuring out how to end this blog was nearly impossible.
Indy Anne was a part of me that I didn't even know existed.
she allowed me to write about things I could never speak of.
she's the reason my depression didn't seem so bad.
she showed me that I didn't need to be so afraid of Paris.
or of tourists.
I have her to thank for that.
but I also have everyone else to thank.
if it weren't for all of you, I would have never had the courage to write the way I did.
your truth has inspired me in ways I cannot fathom.
ways that truly show the parts of you that none of us knew from just glancing at your face.
so thank you.
for the good and the bad.
thank you for all of it.
to nelson.
thank you for opening my eyes to a world I was too afraid to look at before.
thank you for writing the truth.
thank you for throwing desks and rapping and dancing and running around the room like it was your job.
and it was.
thank you for teaching us how to write without a single grammar lesson.
thank you for showing me how to face my demons.
thank you.
so here is one last truth.
I like my guitar more than I like most people.
I have to have the stereo volume on an even number or a multiple of five or it drives me crazy.
I hate engaging in small talk with people I won't remember two years from now.
shit is my favorite swear word while driving.
making out is my favorite pastime.
talking about my feelings scares me more than anything.
I sing more than I talk.
I hate being called "too skinny" or anorexic. the truth is, I eat like a trucker. but with a fast metabolism. and I will never be sorry for that.
I have lots of walls up. walls that have bruised my relationships with too many people.
but I believe in love.
and I believe that this blog will help me find it.
so thank you to everyone who read Indy Anne.
you were the best Paris I've ever known.
Hannah Peterson
