My life used to be a very black and white place, full of clean lines and sharp edges.
And then, one day, not so much.
And then a little less.
And now, hardly at all.
These words, these stories–this is me. And it’s also everyone whose liquid existence has ever been soaked up in the fibers of my terribly, beautifully absorbent heart. It’s my pulse, and the pulse of everyone I’ve ever met. And also of many people I haven’t ever met, who have managed to influence me anyway.
I am a sponge, one who soaks up people and wrings out stories and for the first time in my life, I am giving myself permission to tell them unedited and raw, knowing that the breath in my lungs, the marrow in my bones?
They aren’t always lovely and they are sure as hell not for everybody.
I’m going to wring them out anyway.
Do the same? Maybe we’ll both feel a little less heavy, a little less water-logged, a little less crazy, and a little less alone.