Since completing university, the idea of writing has been anything but compelling or desirable in any conceivable way. Yet, here I am. Writing.
There's so much inside me that it feels, lately, if I don't find a way to let it out it will consume me and turn me into itself a la "The Blob." I feel as if I am being smothered and consumed so that the monster can use me to increase its power.
I've been trying to work on positive language. How do I have positive language when there's so much hurting and pain inside me? How am I supposed to process everything? So that's why I'm here. To process. But I don't live in a vacuum. And I don't think I can figure it all out in one, either. So, I invite the world to peer into these thoughts and this experience. Not everything I write is going to be positive. Not everything is going to be popular. Not everything is going to be polite. But, it is my full intention that everything be honest.
And so, and so, and so...it begins.
