I’ve always written, even when I’ve been quiet, but I started hoarding it. Mincing it into bite sizes. The Party-size Snickers doesn’t really count, right? It’s just enough. I leaned towards living in my head, in my journals and in my “unpublished.” The ironic thing about “living in the unpublished,” is that is sort of echoes what we do in our lives 70% of the time. We just let the internal brewing sit there. We know it’s there, we didn’t just trash it because we knew it had a purpose. Yet, we didn’t allow the final 1% of motion and growth to close the case; we didn’t TRUST IT. So, instead we wait for the courage to click, GO. Click PUBLIC. To say what we mean, to break it the fuck off or “On to the Next” it with a spring in our step. Unpublished….sitting there and waiting. Until remembered, or most likely until forgotten.