Write, Written, Wrote

I feel the stress of my life flow out of my mind and onto the page. With the pen gripped tightly in my fingers, I know that everything is all right. The cramping in my fingers is the stress of my apocalyptic world being lift up off of my weak shoulders. That is why I write. To feel myself come alive. I don’t do drugs I don’t drink I don’t hurt myself I write. I write to be alive. I write to feel better. I write to cry. I write to laugh. I write because I can and no matter how bad it is, I wrote. That writing that is now stained on this page is forever burned into my history. I write. I have written. I wrote. My life is now calm.