I took a break from trying, because all of the words sounded the same and nothing new came out. It was all the old feelings I've already felt and old tears I've already wept. I was tired of beating the horse, it was already pulp beneath my feet.
So I let it go and I dropped the pen. I settled angst and let the winds run wild through the valleys of my mind. Tornadoes formed and storms brewed. I felt the cold grip of a 45 in my hand the other night held tight against my temple. I couldn't pull the trigger.
I'm glad I didn't, because that burning cold against my clammy skin awoke something deep inside. Feeling.
So I'm taking a break from taking a break because finally there's something to write about that isn't that **** pulpy horse beneath me. It's a new beast of fear and irrationality, but it's something. I've been so tired and scared that I haven't known what to do with myself.
Let go.
We thought I had ten little fingers and toes inside me. We thought that my stomach had a heart beat. I'm not sure why I felt so disappointed when that stick said no. We aren't ready for a kid, let's be honest.... are we?
Love is something we bathe ourselves in, what flows through our veins and stirs the dust within us. But I'm not so sure about a little us roaming around on ten little toes.... am I?

The storm has settle and these keys feel comfortable beneath my fingers. I just wish I didn't need to feel the burn on a 45 to know what comfort is.