Don't look down. It's way too steep. Yet, truly, all I want to do is jump.
I'm ready. I know I am. Sure, I sometimes question whether putting pen to paper will really make any difference but I already know the answer. It will, if only to the little girl who held her tongue for three years, plus 37 more. Never in a million years would I have thought, at age 43, I'd be mentally journaling thoughts I want to include in my letter to the man who sexually abused me and raped me when I was a child.
It's a weird place to be. I'm leaning over the edge, but still finding the space and courage to write what's in my heart.
In the meantime, these postcards caught my eye.