anxious lucky us

Writing is where I often go and have gone when I have something in me that needs out. Whether to share or sweet catharsis or because creation is mandatory for the survival of my sanity. Today is hyper realized. Magnified. It sticks out on my mental calendar, highlighted, sharpie circled. Different.

Rare.

For today and the path I’ve laid toward its culmination needs out. I’m sitting to blog my daily slice to tell you, landing space for sharing, that only the anticipatory nerves and excitement are for you. This, today’s writing thing, is for me. For us. My us. As much as you are us to an extent, the creation to be shared will find catharsis off the page.

Larger than writing. But the tension is enough to fill today’s entry. I will let you know, curious contemporary, that this is the happy scary. Worry not warranted. I got this. 

Cross your fingers for me. For us. Someday the concentrated compression of my mysterious meandering here will flood normalized portions surrounding the seal I’ve created here. Then it’ll be for you and, though diluted by commonplace status, it will be far from. Highlighted. Sharpie circled permanent ink-style. Still important, but ready for public consumption. 

Until then, wish me luck. Us, luck. It won’t be needed, but extra luck is always appreciated.

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