First.

Outside,

I don't want my first words to be in anger. Not when they come from a place so full of love and wonder.

Yet, it's that place of love and wonder that is becoming most problematic. Love, wonder, joy, magic, heart-stopping and toe-curling amazement at the experience of here and now.

After training myself to feel this above all else, in circumstances where this has never been easier, it now feels uncomfortably like being the only person high at a party. Why am I? Why aren't you?

So why the anger? I know the feeling. I know all the feels, as we all do. I might be angry at myself. Teacher. Artist. Communicator. But it's no use just standing at the front and saying words (not my favourite medium anyway), if it doesn't breed understanding in the end.

I love you. Critical. Bitter. Shrewd. Funny. Sharp. Maybe I'm just full of whimsical nonsense. That being said, if it'd make you smile more...

We have our roles, though.

M or Louise.