Some days, like today, I open up my post and stare at the blank page.
The things I want to get out of my thoughts are not mine to tell – they intersect my life, but only through other people. I want to scream, and rage on their behalf, but this place is not the place. So I sit, brooding, and waiting for the moment to pass and the urgency to fade. It’s another chapter in a long story that is not likely to end any time soon, despite a frisson of hope earlier.
At what point do you draw the line in the sand and do something that can’t be taken back? When do you commit yourself to seeing it through to the end, knowing that it is going to come at dear cost? How do you extricate yourself from somewhere you never wanted to be in the first place?