‘Tis the season of joy, gratitude and thanksgiving. Of believing that the words written are word written true. A time to reflect and to hope and to believe.
So, I as I sit here wondering why going forward feels so much like I’m going backwards there are other things I want to voice; to write about and yet I don’t write them.
A true writer writes the truth without regard to the feelings of others. They march up to that soap box and they proclaim their beliefs and they shout that they have the best view on things. I guess I don’t even know where I want to begin or end. It’s like my mind is spinning so fast; so out of control that the cogs are threatening to break apart; to fly off into oblivion and I’m getting sick from all of this stress.
This post isn’t what I wanted it to be. There was so much more that I wanted to write. So much more organization and structure and depth. Alas, none of it has come to pass.