Seven days for, with, and by myself. No distractions. No friends. No family. No boyfriend. Reality called work interferes, but I’ve learned to compartmentalize this sacred process.
The mind tries the usual escape route of consumption. Not this time! I’ve been on a digital diet for a month already. I had already primed myself for this cleansing process. This time, I consume my words and nothing else.
After furious typing, 7000 words appear. After relentless handwriting, I fill ten pages. After careful conversations with myself, I can hear myself think again.
Have I been here before?
Yes, you have, replies the younger me from two years ago living in the small notebook covered in blue. And I’m proud of your progress. At least your recordings of the past allows you to draw the intersection with your present.
My writing serves as a mental compass to guide myself back to the deepest part of me. I am grateful for the gift of words.