I don't ever know where to begin, but today I will start here. I want to write but my thoughts are muddled. Or the thought pulsing through my thinking muscle is not connecting with the nerves underneath the padded tips of my fingers. They feel like marshmallows. I forget quickly what I have to say and my right hand stumbles over to the erase button often. My emotions have been hiding, but I know something stirs within. There has always been something. Listless or not. My soul feels alot. And that is why it is hard for me to write.
My character was accused today. By a lifelong friend. And it made me feel sad but incredulous too. If it is a fear of my loyalty as a friend, then I want to defend that. I would never do what she thought I was capable of. Not thought of at all. Not desired. Not possible. Not a worry to waste energy on. But it was and so I had to go on and on about a thing I didn't feel any emotion about other than shock that it would cross my friends mind. That is really all I have to say about that.
But I still feel "everyday is good because of being alive" And this will pass over before the weekend has ended. At least in our hearts if not in our minds. Because I love this friend. And I see no harm in what I do. We will bridge a gap of thought with openness. blah blah blah....
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