By Alison Ogilvie-Holme
Welcome to my humble cerebrum. Please forgive the mess. It’s late and my meds wore off hours ago. Had you arrived earlier, I might have offered you clarity and foresight, or at least some room in which to think. Once brain fog descends, order is impossible.
Yes, apologies are piled quite high, right next to guilt, and broken promises.
Lazy. Stupid. Selfish. Why can’t you get it together?
Somehow, self-loathing has become more acceptable than honesty. Labels are meant to stick, after all.
No, I’m not making excuses! I mean, not on purpose. And …
I’m sorry. What were we talking about?
“(I write) as a means of escape and creative expression.” – the writer