Writer Life
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Somewhere along the way, we started speaking to the voice in the head in the third person. Not because we lost our mind. Quite the opposite. It happened because one morning, while standing in front of the bathroom mirror brushing our teeth, the voice started talking again. You know the one. The running commentary. The…
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“I wish I could tell you she was a hippie.” The Mind sighed and stretched itself across the corners of consciousness where it spent most of its time organizing thoughts into neat little piles. “But she wasn’t.” The Ego laughed. “Thank God for that. She would have been unbearable.” The Spirit smiled quietly from somewhere…
