My entire morning writing is taken up with prayers of releasing. My resentment, my hurt, my exasperation at problems nurtured too long. This burden is not mine to carry.
I decide to give him his birthday present early. He’s got a hard day ahead, and he’ll need it. I’d wanted to commission a calligrapher but designed it myself instead for the worst reason (money). Ignoring that evil voice that tells me it’s worthless because I used a computer.