Kick me under the table all you want.
I am feeling maybe 10% better. I made Sawyer go on a mindless four mile walk but he just turned 10 and it’s harder for him to keep up. I miss writing and my old brain. My writing brain. Maybe it’s a muscle I just need to flex, maybe the body remembers when the mind cannot. I wanted to write something about the May 4th massacre or my time at Kent State or how everyone is dead now but I didn’t. The words didn’t come but maybe they will. Maybe they are still around somewhere. I don’t know how to create a routine right now. I’m going to go paint my toe nails and do a face mask and try and be nice to myself the rest of the day.