One month since I've jotted down my thoughts without hesitation. Although some think my new "project" shows less restraint. My heart is heavy with thoughts of a friend's family member. So much real doom and gloom surrounds me, while I scroll through those wallowing in self pity every day. Changes need to happen. I can't go five minutes within my own home without feelings of anger and sadness waking me or shaking me. Negative thoughts keep coming back as I fight a battle I can not win. I wonder if my thoughts of a simpler life will ever be recognized. A dog, a cat, a roof, a stove and a bed. Maybe a rocking chair. A pen and some paper. I wish this could be my living. Not just writing about me, as it is clear that the audience that cares is minuscule. I want to write about anything and everything. I want to dive back into books without checking my phone. I want to meet the crazy, interesting horror friends on Twitter. In my head, the skeletons in their closets are ...