That's what I've been up to the past couple days essentially. I have written about 60 page of shit that just came exploding out from inside of me as this was happening as well. All sorts of things. Conversations I need to have, that I could have had if only it weren't too late, pieces to flesh out various narrative pieces I've had turning over in my mind for years and years, delayed or perhaps reinvigorated reactions to past events as if I were experiencing them anew and putting to rest infinite numbers of complexly derived anxieties and habits that resulted from them, shaking clean the slate and beginning to etch a more thoroughly authentic life and indeed self on them.

I'm not even on drugs anymore and it's still flowing out incredibly and seemingly without end. Blew up all my friends' phones with shit that I needed to communicate and should have to reach a sense of closure and contentment that was previously lacking, and noticing that maybe I've filled in that vague but potentially cavernous emptiness that had snuck unnoticed and commandeered the place where I have to believe a person's heart and soul traditionally reside.

Replaced with bottomless and boundless contentment, still crackling with the new energy of beginning.

Before that "cement" begins to solidify, if indeed it proves to do at all, I have the chance to do justice and lay the foundational elements of what will be my frame of experience henceforth to my liking and satisfaction.

Odd how not last week I was uneasily convinced that I was something infinitely lesser and wretched and confined, that would be completely unrecongizable, and that that was the limit of my potential.

I guess sometimes, things can and do change to the exact scope of your desire if only you stop telling yourself that you were serving an imagined life sentence in an artifice of your own making, and see, really, what lies before you without pathetic preconception and also without shying from the glory that awaits.