“It’s no wonder that truth is stranger than fiction. Fiction has to make sense.” -Mark Twain
Several years ago, I decided I wanted to document my life on this blog. Events, feelings, people all began to meld together, and I had and still have trouble elucidating those hazy times...which I know includes some of the most meaningful parts of my life.
I notice that the more I write, the more I'm able to discern the reality of what happened. The past six or so years have been nothing less than surreal. I cannot chronologically sort all the moments but I can feel the anger, depression, guilt, and fear. It has been nearly impossible let go, but I hope that writing out every blurred memory brings some sort of catharsis.
Every time I begin writing, I realize that those memories put to paper seem utterly nonsensical. Life is stranger than any fiction. It's an irrational, beautiful mess.
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