Nothing Is Fair In This World. You

I've Always Been A Journal-keeper. I've Always Tried To Write About How I'm Experiencing Life, And My Feelings And Thoughts.

Sometimes I Didn't Even Feel Like Getting Out Of Bed. I Took To Wearing My Days-of-the-week Panties Out Of Order. It Could Be Monday And I'd Have On Underwear Saying Thursday. I Just Didn't Care.

The Only Wrong Thing, Perhaps, Is Permanently Hesitating On The Verge Of Courage.

Gazing Into The Mirror, I Saw Myself As I Was-a Black Silhouette In The Room, A Woman Whose Darkness Had Completely Leaked Through.

Back In The Autumn I Had Awakened To A Growing Darkness And Cacophony, As If Something In The Depths Were Crying Out. A Whole Chorus Of Voices. Orphaned Voices. They Seemed To Speak For All The Unlived Parts Of Me, And They Came With A Force And Dazzle That I Couldn't Contain. They Seemed To Explode The Boundaries Of My Existence. I Know Now That They Were The Clamor Of A New Self Struggling To Be Born.