The trees shake outside.
My cats and I watch them dance.
Do they know it's wind?
Or do they dream, the branches
are birds about to take flight?

People are always saying that they're looking for their "someone".
But of all the people I've asked for details from,
none have been able to tell me more than
they're looking for "the one".

Sounds to me that powerful magics are being worked here,
and I would guess the fae will probably appear soon.
That's what happened last time I sniffed around too near
the sharpened steel trap they were setting.

Time is so strange.
​
It can feel like a standstill
trapping you in solid, immovable air like concrete
that takes
what feels like
thousands
of seconds
ticking by
to break through and free you.

But it can also rush by like a tidal wave
with force enough to concuss and knock you off your feet
before you even realize it had begun,
leaving you gasping for breath
when in an instant
it's gone again.

It's time to try again.

I've stood at the edge for long enough
considering the odds and consequences.
If I stay here much longer
I'll get caught up in the details, lose myself in negative potential
and never risk the positive.

And I can't count the amount of times
I've fallen into that trap.
Multiverses full of 'what ifs' that I never tried to answer.

But this time,
I'm going to explore the possibility.

With a deep breath
I'll open my eyes
and leap.

How to describe how I feel...

I feel like clicking those buttons was like cutting a tether.
One that had been fraying for some time now.
Growing nearly translucent,
but still gripping me tightly.
Holding me in an orbit that I'd been fighting for years.

Now that the tether is gone
I'm doing more than just turning away from the sickening light of his star.
Now I'm free to fully leave his presence.
To guide myself in whatever way I choose.
To float leagues and galaxies away if I wish,
and no longer feel the radiation he gives off eating away at me.

​I feel like I'm finally doing something that is wholly for me.
Cutting off something that was only rot and decay and pain.
Allowing myself fresh air,
and banishing the hovering sensation that he was always on the outskirts of my mind,
waiting for his next excuse to stride right in and make me question myself.

Hello, my nemesis. It's been a while.
I see you're just as pale and blank-faced as always.
Guess some things never change.


Oh, you're surprised I'm still here?
Did you think that just the sight of you would send me running?
Or freeze me solid before I even picked up a pen?


Well, I'll admit that I've had that reaction to you in the past.
It's true.
But I've decided that I miss our time together.
The ink spilt. The tears. The laughter.


Yes, quite a bit of it has been painful,
and I've definitely lost days of sleep over you...
But I can't let my fear and worry that I'll never be good enough beat me.
And you certainly won't either.


So go ahead.
Glare at me from between your lines.
Hiss at every touch of my pen.
Do everything you can to make me fear filling your blank pages.


You're not going to have much luck though.
I've decided I've got too much to say
to sit here mute at the sight of you.

So 50,000 words is just a hop, skip, and a month away!

I wonder what the weather will be like there...
Clear blue skies, a cloud or two, and nice not-to-cool weather?
I hope so.

It's gonna be a little while 'till we reach there.
So everyone fasten your seatbelts,
plug in your headphones,
and ready those spare pens and snacks!
We're gonna get those words out one way or another this month,
contractions or no.
So three, two one...
​Here we go!

Against all odds, the day is done.

Moments that stretched on for hours,
piled atop each other in towering obelisks,
have finally collapsed with the thunderous crash of midnight.

They have fallen into piles at your feet
ready to be used for the days ahead
to create an unending array of possible outcomes.

What will you make of them tomorrow?

How about we skip it tonight?

There's no need for the sounds of fists banging
on locked metal doors outside
or fists on cracked drywall.

How about we let the night decide the sounds?
Let whatever wind may blow guide our course
amidst the soothing chorus of crickets.
​
Let fears and memories of yesterday
fade into the background
while the marvels of our minds take the lead.

Whenever my fingers start typing or scribbling
I never know what's going to happen

They might drag me down through underground caverns lined with swinging blades
or lead me gently through flowered meadows to the sound of fae in flight

They might decide I'm in for a scare and toss a score of ghouls my way
or drop me neck-deep into a memory that's far beyond my sight

Either way, the urge to type and scribble is always nibbling at my mind
and even when I try to plan
I really never know what's going to happen.