It has been a year and a half since I last wrote anything, well, significant. (Coincidentally, also the exact age of my dog.) So I figured it was time to get out all the stupid. Here goes nothing. He’s twenty eight, almost twenty nine. January has always been a difficult month, it’s been the month of departures in his life. Most people are excited about the hope January brings with it, he’s terrifyingly cautious of the signs it brings - of people leaving, of things changing, and basically everything going to shit. His fears are not unfounded, he’s not a vague person like that. He’s seen things happen, he’s felt things hurt and he’s experienced darkness in its complete, mystifying totality. People think he's naïve, his problems self-made but tell that to the spiraling tornado in his head that won't quit screaming. Fast forward to two years later, it's his thirtieth birthday eve. He grew up celebrating and anticipating this month, now he plans to sleep well before midnight....
A fresh start at writing. Yes, again! Thanks to my procrastinating skills. Although, I am sure, this will be more spontaneous than my last effort, considering I scribble a lot these days. Comparatively! :P