Before today, he’s known as someone who minds his business, he finds no pleasure in gossip, only resolution and reason. When observed from the outside, you’d think his composure a flawless pillar of strength and endurance. But inside tells a different story. One of continual damage built over years of silence.
The good news is I’ve begun to practice accepting my imperfections. For the past couple of days, I’ve written stories that feel nice to write but make little sense. And I’m okay with that.
The time for change has come and gone, as it often does. An extra hour would be nice. Today I’m caught in a windstorm, staggered, somehow finding my way back into my bedroom.
Back to you.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale– breath.