When I was younger I learned to bottle my emotions, for my own protection. Looking back I see that I never really bottled them, I found a way to release them in plain sight. Writing.

I remember having stacks of notebooks, journals, diaries. I stared this blog several years ago and started it over when things in life got rough. Writing is how I feel.

I may not know how to properly emote to another human being, or myself, but if anyone wonders what the emotions in my mind are, it’s in my writing.

It’s in the way I describe the wind blowing through the branches, and how they make me feel at ease. How I address the circus of elephants in my mind through humor and analogies.

Writing about death soothes me when it’s all I really want some days. If I didn’t have my written word I’m not sure anyone would ever know that I even have a heart, I can sometimes be cruel, cold, and heartless. For my protection.