As before, a mental cog falls into place and things fit. Maybe this is something I need to write for myself. It’s processing things the best way I know how. Nobody will ever see these words, so it’s safe to write it all down any way I see fit. Not for public consumption. Not to be judged. Just for me. Now, with the words out of my brain and onto the page, my mind’s machine whirs to a halt and goes quiet. And for the first time in years . . . I feel like I’m alive again.
