Held accountable, almost accidentally. Dinner late. Good food, small plates. I probably went over but not too much. It all evens out, baby. I'm feeling good. Not in a "I did great tonight" way, more in a "I didn't fuck it up" way. There's a difference. It feels different in the moment, anyway. But over time, the great nights and the non-fuck-ups all get intertwined and become the same thing: progress. Slow and then in spurts, but still progress all the same. Goodnight.
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