Something to say.
I miss having something to say.
My brain races ahead of me and I struggle to catch up. Words come out–one here, one there. They’re linked, somehow. Coherent thoughts get mixed together, tossed, jumbled, poured out.
I used to be able to concentrate. I used to be able to create. I used to paint pictures with words; I used to capture moments in time; I used to manipulate emotions in text.
I miss my mind.
I hope you’ll find it again, soon. I hate when I find myself getting that way, too.
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