The way out is in

 I have actually been writing a lot in my diary in the last couple of months and it's a little bit odd for me to see. I have not expected it of me, it has not always been standard procedure that I should fill up page after page after on daily basis. When I get I make coffee and in the meantime I drink a glass of water. I bring my diary and my pen to the kitchen table, I look out of the window and then I dive into the page. 

  I have always looked out the window or balcony door or any opening to the outside right before starting to write. Sometimes in hope that something will be distracting and enticing enough for me to focus my attention there, others as a look to the outside before I turn my look inwards.

  And lately my writing turns more and more inwards. I have managed to write down things that I have never dared speak out loud, things that hurt me deeply, ways I realised I hurt others. All in an effort to map out what it is that drives me forward but also to alleviate the pressure of what is in the past. The truth will set you free but it will break your bones. I thought that perhaps even talking could help but talking a bit about something is nothing compared to spilling your mind on a page, completely sober, in the morning of the light. When you talk with people in your social circle there's always a bit of a dancing going on and that, that always changes things.

  Writing is cathartic but I end up crying almost every day. None of these are the worst things that could happen to a person, why do they hurt me so much? I do not ponder this too much. We're accustomed to measuring everything, but I am guessing that there is no point in measuring our dicks in the unhappiness, our own individual burden to bear.

  Some times we bleed to death due to a million small cuts - the trick is to keep them all open, to never let them heal. Or to let them get infected and fester. There are so many things that I have not let go and it takes time and forgiveness towards myself to look at them in the eye for what they are. I am sad on most days but often a little bit of the weight has been lifted. Often I realise how many things stem from experiences I had allowed myself to admit they hurt.

  And in my vulnerability, that is scary and painful every step of the way, I am slowly learning to open myself up. I am learning to keep the most important promises of all: those to myself.

  I try not to kid myself that it could be any easier.