165 days later.
I’ve written thousands and poured oceans to describe what’s inside of me; in single words and long sentences, in similes and metaphors, through rage, triumph, and defeat. Still, I don’t think I’ve yet gotten an accurate description to these vivid, distinct emotions I encounter every moment of every day. And I’ve just come to the realization that what I endure on the inside is way too inscrutable to be interpreted into letters and words. Yet, I never cease to keep looking for charactery to teem this inner turmoil of mine through ink into my paper.. For I know the pain and anger will never subside and so shall my pen forever bleed..