I feel slow as I try to gain momentum with my thoughts. It has been a day of bright skies, but I miss the breeze and how it carries me along with ease, reminding me of the small joys that I rarely notice. I am confused. I am very tired, though not particularly sleepy. I worry, although it’s been a week full of wonderful blessings. Gratitude fills me, yet I fear more mistakes, and I wait on hurt to make another not yet overdue visit. I wonder so often at my own capacity for strength. Then I remember how, just a few days ago, someone I’ve admired for nearly two decades showed me support with my writing, and how this inspired me to keep taking risks with it as I continue to weave my way through the maze of my strange little mind each day. I know that the place where my path is leading will be worth the challenge of pushing my own limits.