Lately, every time I try to write, I stop myself. I’m afraid of what people will think, that nobody will get it, I’ll look like an idiot. How can I put to words what I am feeling right now, experiencing, knowing, getting, desiring, yearning for? How can I say it so people will get it, so people won’t judge me, so people won’t think I’m crazy, so people won’t write me off? And I stumble over every word as I type them. I want so bad to connect, to reach someone else, and yet, I’m fucking terrified.
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for all week. In the eclipse window and all of the shit I need to let go of is being stirred up. The storm is blowing strong. And the flood waters are showing us what She’s coming to wash away.
Reminding myself this discomfort is natural.
And what’s going on on the outside is going on on the inside. The dying warlords of our time know their day is coming and they’re fighting to hold on. Just as the thoughts and beliefs I inherited from them are fighting for relevance in my body and mind.