The ebbs and flows of life.
Goodness, I have no idea what to write about. I was just speaking with someone the other day about the weight of feeling like I need to write when I'm happy. Words come naturally with sadness. That's easy and poetic. The difficult and humbling experience comes from writing when we're happy. Or at least content. I suppose that's what you could call this place.
I'm overflowing with emotions, truly. They present themselves randomly, evolving without rhyme or reason.
Call me a fountain. But be prepared to stand back or you'll be drenched.
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