Missing

I have been missing my friend writing. Missing is such a strange word. Isn’t it? Missing. Missing. Missing. M-I-S-S-I-N-G. I almost lose its meaning saying it over and over again. If I am not careful I will miss what I am wanting to say.

I have missed writing. Mostly because in writing I am myself. I let go of the image of who I am and just let me come out. My strengths, my weaknesses, my realness, my humanness, my everything. I allow myself to be unedited most of the time. I am not trying to impress anyone. For some reason, it is my way to being authentic which is exactly as it should be.