Not there yet
I have a dozen self-pitying posts that keep trying to come up, like bile, but the thought of putting them out leaves an acrid taste in my mouth.
There is nothing new to say. I have no reason to assume that something has gone wrong with the one that remains, even if my anxiety swells tangibly day by day. I'm counting on the promise of time to bring some semblance of equanimity.
Do you think it works that way--time, I mean?