Mourning After

With the traces of alcohol still swimming around my system, with the taste of cigarette still in my mouth, and nursing memories of loud music and very pretty boys, I sit here with my head lowered, needing to put into words what I'm feeling. And coming up empty. There are just so many emotions right now. Elation. Disappointment. Empowerment. Fear. Giddiness. Sadness. Freedom. Insecurity. How have I managed to arrive at this point in the journey?

I am staying home from work today. At least, for part of the day. I am nursing the remains of a bad cold and at seven, believe it or not, I still felt a little tipsy (it was whatever they put in that tubey thing, I swear).

This is all great, but I miss my focus. FOCUS, man. At least, I did call Harper Collins on the book on Thursday, so I'm proud of that. But I need to get back to the third novel, to writing every day. If only I could just blow someone and get this settled once and for all.

(eww, I'm going to pay for that comment. Well, shit. There it is.)

I'm going down, down, down...

This I believe

Okay, I may only be at the start of a new journey, but I've got to believe that I've picked up a few things during my other stages that I can take with me as I go forward. I think that this document may be a work in progress, a summation of what I believe to be true, what I should strive for, what path I need to stay true to as the remainder of the rich fabric of my life unfolds.

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