Today I get to be Writer. I get to wear my bright red harem pants, my boyfriend’s grey t-shirt with a faded picture of Bruce Lee, (which I’ve unexpectantly become attached to, which means I’ll probably never return it) and my colourfully striped socks. These are my favourite socks and will probably wear out soon because I wear them like slippers. I hate wearing shoes indoors. I digress.
I get to be Writer. With no guarantees of writing. With no pressure to write. No expectations. I’ll walk up and down this house in silence. I’ll eat. Refill my coffee. My mind will come down from its high and remind me of my life. But until then I get to just be Writer. I get to feel inner peace. I swirl ideas in my mind and look forward to the results.
I get to breathe. Really breathe. I’ve missed this so much. I don’t know when I’ll feel like this again. This must be the calm before the storm. But until then, I am allowing myself to exhale.
Just for today.