Friends these days. Where have they gone
I’m not one to write down my thoughts. I have sat with many journals and attempted to fill pages with the freeway of emotions, ideas, and daily circumstances. And yet I always find myself staring at a blank page with a date. It’s in that moment that I realize that I’m pretending to be something I’m so far from. I’m not the writer who is impacting. I’m the reader who is being shattered by your words, and at the same time relieved. As if I was writing out my thoughts by the reading of yours.