I feel most at peace when the rumbling of my conscious cease. It’s always been me and my nibbling conscious, spilling words from my psyche to the ink from this pen. It’s Sunday morning and my heart has been ash gray since last May and somehow it’s May again… and somehow I’m here again.

It’s always been me and my nibbling conscious and though she is my closest friend, she is always nibbling… always rumbling… always… always… And she’s loud I may add… and she’s angry I may also add… but more than anything, she’s suppressed, I will lastly add. And maybe rightfully so.

It’s always been me and my nibbling conscious and on those rarities where she is still… when the rumbling quiets down and the ash settles… I feel peace. When my conscious ceases and I’m able to pick up the peaces, that is my peace.