Time is passing quickly and changes happen at every corner. It's been a crazy few years and sharing has felt like a chore on a long to do list. I've opened this many times and started to type or sat and stared at the screen trying to determine how to transfer what is in my brain into rational thought on "paper."
I did manage to keep a hand written journal almost daily for over a year. It was only the second time I completely filled one. Then I promptly spilled coffee all over it, ruining it. At first I was upset, probably even cried over it, but now it seems that was the best thing that could've happened to it. It was full of pain, confusion and sadness. It was an outlet for my anger. I wrote about my divorce, a horrible relationship I was in and other heartache and a few triumphs. It is as if I cleansed it with my favorite drink. A perfect way to close those chapters.
Now I sit here vowing to myself to write more. I've missed it. I've missed me. I no longer have the noose of censorship and I have a story to share.
