SeeingRred
WRITING IS MY THERAPY. I only just voiced it and knew it to be true. Words stroking my hair, tender with curiosity. The mighty pen, a hand on my back holding me up. It has been the one constant support in my life, a warm blanket, my consoling hug.
In the rare, quiet moments (as of late, most often in the shower or in the midst of a walk/jog/run), I find the most clarity. My thoughts, inherently shrouded in judgement and self-doubt, have always needed to be captured and scribed almost immediately or they mock me with wanton disorder. If left unharnessed, it requires extensive amounts of time to piece my self back together.
So, I write. With longing and no regrets. Thoughts to paper, I contain myself and simultaneously run free. A relationship of mutual love and respect. I need not want more.
Written July 23, 2018
