It’s coming up on two years now, and the wounds are starting to heal. At least I think so. The nerves have gone numb so it’s hard to tell.
I’ve wanted to write this for a while but the words only come when I’m alone with my thoughts, and I’ve come to avoid doing that. I’m probably going to get the words wrong, but since the growing numbness will soon make it impossible to record this, it’s now or never. It’s probably already too late.
I lost a friend that day in October. A very close friend. Closest I’ve ever…
Snap went the sound of my anchor line — loud as the crash of a thousand dying dreams. The whiplash extinguishing this little light of mine which had thus far been keeping the blackness at bay.
Dinghy capsized, its sole occupant alone in the void. Head barely above the surface.
All that remains is time.
Don’t worry about the packaging before you have something you can package.
Before you get that logo designed, and before you agonize over colours and fonts, and before you choose a blogging platform, start writing. Write daily. Write as often as you can. Whether you publish it or not, just write. Some of it will be good. A lot of it will be bad, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is consistency. Once you’re consistent, then worry about the packaging.
Until then, write.
I listen to a lot of different styles of music and go through phases where I’ll listen to a lot of something and then switch to something else. Recently, I binged on Eminem and bought a bunch of his songs off of iTunes to scratch that particular itch. I bought them, like I do all my music—despite my friends’ protests—‘cause you know, it’s the right thing to do and hey, I should support the artist for the hard work they put into creating the music.
Some time passed since my Eminem binge and yesterday morning, while on the train to…