I am slowly, writing again.

Its cynical and self-adsorbed. Nostalgic by nature, often too focused on past experiences. But that is nothing new.

This type of writing can lead me to deeper insights or to downward spirals of melancholy and/or painful unresolved feelings. Now dont that sound just fucking great? But solution number one: Dont think about it. Suppression is not the cure but the wound, being covered with a sticky band aide.

Its only brief relief, but that moment is all one needs to become distracted. With kisses and presence. Yay, physical distractions.