Something Small I Put Out There

I wrote something this week. Not a recipe, not a list, not 'five things I'm loving in March.' Just, something honest. About a class I've been taking. I didn't name the class. I didn't explain it. I wrote four sentences, and then I hit publish while my brain was still catching up to what my hands were doing.

I've had drafts sitting in the folder for months that I keep re-opening and re-saving without changing a single word. You probably know what I mean. The ones that are too specific or too quiet or, I don't know, too much like something you actually mean. This wasn't going to be one of those. I wasn't going to let it.

the hand on the closed laptop. after.

So I didn't re-read it. I didn't fix the second sentence that felt clunky. I just, sent it. And then I closed the laptop and sat with the lamp on for a while and didn't touch my phone. I made tea. I read three pages of a book. The kind of afternoon that doesn't look like anything from the outside.

reading it back after. that's the part nobody tells you about.

I don't know if anyone read it. I don't really need to know right now. It was less about the blog and more about, proving to myself that I could say a true thing out loud and the walls wouldn't fall in. They didn't. That's enough for tonight.