As I read her words it is as if I have written them myself. As if the hand that has typed them is mine. As if the heart they flow from is beating in my chest. I wipe the tears from my face and shake my head to clear the confusion.
As I fed my addiction this morning I was rocked to my very core. It happens to me sometimes... more than I like. "Who are these people?" I have asked myself on more than one occasion. How is it they know how I feel? How are they writing my thoughts, just as I would write them, if only I had the courage to do so? It takes courage to bare one's soul for the world to read. After all, it is out there forever.
I am grateful to all of you whom I read. For when I am unable to bare my soul: when I don't have the courage to do it myself, there is always one of you who does it for me. Thanks.