There it is again.

That knock in the back of my head, when I look at the blank page and that little blinking line starts to mimic my heartbeat.

Breathe.

I tell myself. Before I start. Before I place my fingers on the keyboard and just hover. Breathe. It’s all going to be okay.

But it’s still there.

The voice. The familiar voice, that doesn’t sound mean or scary or angry. The voice that sounds soothing and comforting, warm. Like all it wants is to protect me. Keep me safe. Let me know, it’s okay to close the computer and get something to eat, or go for a walk, or sleep.

I’m still here though.

I don’t move. From my keyboard. From the desk and the computer. It’s still open and the page is filling up with digital ink and the cursor is moving and I am writing.

It’s going to be okay.

I tell that to the voice. It’s going to be okay, because I’m writing and nothing bad has happened. You can go find something to eat, or go for a walk, or sleep.

This is going to take a while.

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