Somewhere Safe

I locked the deadbolt and flicked the regular lock into place, dropped my bag on the chair and sagged against the door. Safe from the insanity outside. For now. How much longer could I cope? There were still six months left on my lease. With a sigh, I pushed off the door and crossed the large single room of my studio apartment to the walk-in closet in the back corner.

“Hello Eric, how was your day?” I shrugged out of my dress clothes and slipped into shorts and a t-shirt. “Are you awake?” I knelt on the closet floor and peered past a crumpled hoodie on the bottom shelf. Continue reading “Somewhere Safe”

My Fear of Journaling

Growing up I never bought a diary or journal for myself, but I did receive a few as gifts. Flowers and butterflies in a variety of colors decorated the hardback cover and the inside pages. The paper was soft and inviting. When I ran my hand over it I felt the urge to write.

It was ready to hold all my stories, fears, worries, crushes, pet peeves, joys, discoveries, hopes, and dreams. With my favorite well-chewed pen, I was ready to document my life!

But I could never make myself write in it. Continue reading “My Fear of Journaling”