I come here in the mornings first, of course. I suppose this is the best time for me to come clean. or if nothing else, at least let me start clean. Let me purge now before the impurities of the day take away the purities in my heart.
It is hard though. Not the mornings or the ideas.
It isn’t hard to confess or to come clean either.
I suppose that this place is as safe as any to come clean, or confess.
The trouble is the anticipation.
It’s the building and the mounting anxieties that start, one by one, and it’s the worry about the impending doom that often carries me away.
But here I am. Good or bad, like it or not, it’s showtime.