"...I flew too high and like Icarus I collide..."

There's something comforting about opening up a 'new post' page and making words appear in the blank, white space. It's like releasing some of the tension in my head - the swirling and the quiet that are actually bleary-eyed. struggling fights. Like kneading bread into the the perfect consistency. Or slipping cold hands into freshly hot, sudsy dishwater. I don't tell you much of anything - still, it still helps when I'm too caught up in myself and anxiety to hold a pen and force what I'm really feeling onto paper, that, although patient, doesn't relieve me the way hitting 'publish post' - or even 'save as draft' - does.

I have a plethora of saved drafts. Days that found me a disheveled mess at sunset and only allowed me a few incoherent sentences before I drowned my sorrows in hot tears and ill sleep.

To understand even a little would be like experiencing breathing after minutes without. Relief.