The books that I’ve tried to write, the stories I’ve tried to tell lie scattered about, in no particular place, in no particular order, waiting to be picked up again, when I’m less afraid to tell my story.
A story about survival, strength, but ultimately our lead character prevails, but does she really? She still awakes to night terrors, years later. She still feels pretty low about herself and what she’s accomplished. But she’s safe, she’s free. Free from the kind of things that only nightmares tell. Free from the harsh prison that her soul was confined to because she had to be like everyone else. She couldn’t just stand on her own two feet, that wasn’t allowed.
So now here she stands, a shell of who she was before. The good, the bad, the ugly all that’s left is someone new she has to learn. She has to learn who she is because the person she’s been hasn’t been her.