Writing carries me through the day. It's a comfort. No matter what mood I'm in, once I'm at my keyboard, typing away, words soothe me. The puzzle and the dance of them, the rhythm, are like heartbeat. Perhaps it's comforting because it's akin to the heartbeat I heard in my mother's womb? You know, like music, it has a beat to it, and the repetition is what quiets the frayed nerves, the emotional fluctuations. All is still. All is good. I'm writing.