Rhi Axtell – Writer

It began with a cup of tea. I was tired – the storm had kept me up at night. My thoughts came slowly, emerging out of the fog of tiredness. I started writing in my journal and kept writing for as long as I could. Most of it was anxious mumblings, a few insults thrown here and there. But after the second page or so, the fog began to clear and I realised it was helping. I started being kinder to myself. The words were softer. My handwriting less frantic and scribbled.

By the end of page three, I emerged. Hand- aching. Head- clearer. Remaining tea – stone cold. A worthy sacrifice.