It’s been a long time since I’ve sat down to write. It feels like it’s been much longer than it should be. The pattern of my words is disjointed.
But, tonight I fell into a familiar rhythm. After work, I stopped by the liquor store.
The lights are low, there’s familiar music playing loudly enough, and a beer’s sitting on a coaster. There’s a candle flickering. All of the things are in the right place.
This is where I come to write.
I’ve kept enough space for a good while now. I had to. I should’ve declined tonight’s invitation.
I started tonight’s writing with a letter that I’d love to send but never will. As I was writing, it stopped being a letter. It became an airing.
It’s more interesting to read than this post.
See, I want to be able to write when I’m sober but I can’t. I wrote a post about how it’s possible, but I was lying to you and to myself.
I want to be able to write when my words aren’t being swept into the spillway.