Why, with everything that exists out there, am I writing my blog? Why not let some other authors write, as I silently watch and hide in peaceful obscurity? I write because I need to touch on some things for myself. I write, because I need to grow, and to share. I write, because hiding, and
Sometimes it’s all that you can do.
You know that point you reach, when you’ve thought yourself into a corner, and you can’t get out? Anxiety, re-play, flashbacks, paranoia; they all make us do it sometimes. I call this “thinking your way into a paper bag.” Yesterday, two of my friends thought themselves into tears, via flashbacks and anxiety. It left me
