Staying present can be really hard. The past and the future call out to me, vying for attention. The mind doing what it does, incessantly thinking. I know every breathing exercise, I can recall every grounding technique. Putting it in to practice is more than a chore. At times, it feels impossible.
I'm grateful to have an outlet. When I write, the blur begins to slow down. I can make out the shapes of the world in front of me. A ray of dusty sunlight peaks through the blind. The sky is blue.
Thank you for reading.
