Ugh, where do I start. Moving...moving forward, moving backwards. I'm always in this constant state of movement. Whether its emotional or physical. Good or bad, the movement doesn't seem to have a need to meet any kind of format nor does it desire to have a label. It's been a long time since I've blogged last and I'm thinking that I do need to come back to it because its therapy.
A whole year of not writing on this blog, and a whole year of not writing anything not pertaining to furthering my eduction. The characters in my head call out to me, flesh themselves out in my head. The story plays out but the paper/pen/computer doesn't know it's story. They scream at me to continue on, that they want to be heard. The only thing I hear is my need for some stability in this shaky world that is now my separation and dealing with the three children's hearts that are left bleeding in its wake.
My desire is to write and to only write. It's the process of getting lost in that reality that keeps calling me back. I need to write. I'm missing myself because I haven't written.
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