Choose Your Hard
Each and every time I sit down to type something, I envision a scene from the movies. The writer is some brilliant actress with a bit of a perfectionistic streak, and they type then delete on repeat before composing some elaborate, thorough, yet touching piece of sentimental written artwork. Then comes the scratching of a record, abruptly halting the image. In reality, it's just me sitting here, yielding a keyboard in lieu of a pen, and a jumbled meshing of thoughts and ideas which, at times, elicit a reaction or two, but less often these days. Despite all the doubt of the exposure even being worth it, I forge on with making an attempt at conveying a speck of what's on my mind. "Choose your hard." Those words ring steadily and without fail, over and over. Grief has been so up close and personal as of late. I am not even referring to my own personal process, but the people around me wading in or even worse, plunging into the deep end where I am already. Our shared real...