No Fanfare

My return to writing is one that I think about daily, but try to damper. The world is full of words, text, thoughts, and feelings. Tragedies, both fact and fiction, and most a combination of the two. Comprehension of information is limited to the human capacity for consuming it. I think we are all near a breaking point in that regard. 

I sat down to list the tragedies and atrocities for the preceding six-months and I was overcome with despair. I return to writing for myself. I return to written words as a means of processing the pain and lifting the burden of it off my shoulders for a moment, just to collect my thoughts. I know that I will pick it back up and carry it again, but perhaps in a better packed way. 

I return with no fanfare, just as so many in this world live in pain and hopelessness, dying in obscurity with immeasurable pain. I return that I may give voice to their lives and voice to their cries. I return to tell the stories of lives. The truth and the fiction bound in perception, but tangible and sharp. There are things that are objectively true, resoundingly true, provably factual, and there is no shortage of people who choose to deny that truth on the grounds that their subjectivity is inconvenienced by it. 

But, that is a story for another post. 

If you are still here, greetings. If no one else ever reads it, it will still have served its purpose.