Every time I try to write what I actually want to say my brain gets tangled in a mass of emotions that I can’t de-string. It’s that necklace at the bottom of your jewelry box that’s been sitting there for six years and you finally decide that you need to wear it but it’s been so neglected that it takes far too long to regain usefulness, so you end up selling it for the gold inside.
My mind is worth more than $25, though.