I’m stuck in a holding pattern.
After months of either scrambling to get back to where I was or fighting to get over my grief, I’ve petered out at about 6,000 feet.
Circle.
Circle.
Circle.
All my lackluster energy is spent maintaining an altitude near nothing or no one…
Wow.
Self-pity.
Wasn’t expecting to puke that out over everyone this morning.
Apologies for the projectile vomit, my friends. Please, disinfect yourselves immediately on departure.
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
The Words & Madness of Chloe Stowe 
I get this completely.
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I’m sorry that you do, my friend. Hope it helps knowing someone else is up there chasing their tails in the heavens with you.
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Ah, thank you. There are many sadly.
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