I have a mess of thoughts in my mind that I can’t collect into words quite yet. There is an exhaustion of pages and smudgy ink that I have toiled over, again and again. Trying to etch down my thoughts, but they haven’t come like I hoped. The words wont run smoothly on the page just yet. I think they need more time to soak in the vast light that is not the written page. I’ll give it a few days, then I’ll come back again and try again. Maybe they just weren't meant to be smooth and elagent, maybe they are just supposed to be the truth.
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