A good friend from my college chapter called within a couple weeks. We speak about once a year, but he noted that he felt it was almost necessary to call me… for reasons unknown.
In our discussion, he questioned my mood, and we talked at length about thoughts like loneliness, depression, and creativity. It had been clear to me, but it became clear to me that I had been in the final stages of a sort of grief.
Truly, the 18-ish months since I stopped writing, I did experience many new things, and I reflected on my past work and my current self.
Interestingly, it was my fraternity brother, on a chance phone call, who took notice that I needed to be spoken to honestly, and that I need not wait to write again. Truly family.[2/?]
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