could i stop writing? what would it do to me? is it even possible? wouldn't i always be one in my head, mentally writing things down, seeking that perfect description, grabbing onto things said around me, amazed by a sentence or word, or anxious to move my fingers in accordance to a thought?
or does it feel impossible because it's something i don't want to give up? wouldn't it be an easier life? i might be more organized, a better wife and parent perhaps, a better friend and correspondent. or would i? i have lived through things i needed but lost, got up another day because as humans we must, especially with people depending on us.
these are certainly not new musings. but tonight, or rather early morning, they return. hey, a bug is swimming in my cup and i'm suddenly thirsty.
grace and god's guidance to you with your musings.
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