I had an unspoken truce with myself that when I picked up the metaphorical pen again I would be going somewhere dark and familiar, that the correct choice would be not to pick up the pen.
For the past week, memories have been blindsiding me, without any triggers at all.
For the longest time, I took care not to play certain songs, watch certain movies, or pick up the camera. Even pick up a book.
I have succeeded until now, in a fit of temporary desperation, I pressed play on an Incubus video. It was a song in a playlist I have forgotten I had on YouTube.
So here we are.
