Well, here we are. (Again.)
By some sudden surge of wanting to remember, the other night, I opened this old thing, and found pieces of me I never thought I had. All the reckless notes, "unsent" letters, suspended disbelief and delusion of some kind of love that me-then thought was real when it was really not. Wily, fickle hearts drunk on the idea that it being unrequited means it was special. It really wasn't.
But what is remembering, if not to pick up where we think we left off, and try to write a better ending. My way of dealing with all the past was to archive everything and let it get lost in a sea of zips and rars. Maybe there it will find its place, among the rubble of worthily forgotten things.
I still don't know what to do with this newfound space. I have a bad habit of starting things and then not sticking to it; my Wordpress is proof of that. I tried looking for prompting bots--anything to get me to practice writing again. But if there's anything I learned from many years of being wired to write like this, it's always the sudden surge to whisper something to someone. It will always be there, I think, like some phone call just waiting for me to answer. So while it's there--while we're here--let's see where this takes us.