At one point writing was a refuge. I found my peace through my words.
The mental clutter would clear when I wrote
Once upon a time, writing was my refuge.
I need that time to return. I have so many thoughts and I struggle to organize them
I’ve never been quite this insecure or unsure
Perhaps it’s just a transitional phase and I’ll pass through it soon enough
But writing used to my refuge
My thoughts had to quiet when I wrote. Now they are still jumbled but I’m trying to find my refuge
I’m looking for my safe space.
At one point, writing was my refuge