I don't really know what to say tonight. About anything. But I'm compelled to write- write something. But you sort of need something to say in order to write. And I've realized that this has sort of become my diary. And I think, I think I'm ok with it. I think I'm ok with the fact that 16 different strangers are reading my innermost thoughts. That's sort of strange though, don't you think? That I won't tell a single living breathing named soul these thoughts, but I will pour them out online and allow faceless strangers to comment? I don't know the type of people I am allowing to see these thoughts- to hear them, so to speak. And maybe you can really hear them? The voice each and every one of you has made me out to be, ringing and echoing against your skull, maybe they have been heard.

I, I have been heard.

If only every single soul in this lonely world had that luxury.

I am, forever, grateful.