The conversations in my head go this way. Sometimes I have no idea which of me I'm conversing with, but more often than not, she is. "This too shall pass away. Do not panic. It's easy for me to whisper this to you, or try to convince you to focus on nothing but your breathing, but it is what it is. You can't change a lot of things that happen to you. Choices? A friend once asked if I really believed we had any. Control? I have none. So why do you tell me not to panic? It changes nothing, and you know this. You have no control over your reaction to how bad things may appear. But you have a decision to make, whether or not to spend time thinking about the already made choices, or sunbathing and leaving your life to the tide the heavens choose for you. Are the heavens real? Are they even seven? No, I don't know. You feel better when you don't try so hard to justify it all. Why do you bother about my pathetic reaction to what I have no control over? You're ...
On other days, the ink reflects my thoughts better than my lips ever would...