There are some stories you just have to live with for a long time before you share them with the big wide world. Sometimes you're waiting for characters to define themselves, or for entire plots to become clear, to imagine different endings before you settle on the one that feels most authentic to the vision in your noggin. You know that once you tell a story, a little bit of it, or a lot bit of it stops being yours, and you relinquish the privilege of communing with it privately and reaching that initial solitary sense of what it means to you. This is the way it is with fiction, but also with stories of personal experience. There are some you can't wait to tell, and some you need to keep in your bonnet, and some you need to keep in your bonnet because you can't wait to tell them. This is why I'm holding off for a while before really writing about the accident that knocked me out for the last half year, don't worry, the story's coming, it just needs to be mine alone for a little longer. I might address it here and there, but I'm dying to get back to this old blog, so I'm going to try to work around the big story.
Also, I'm busy enjoying not being broken right about now, it's a lot more fun than what came before :)
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