I honestly can’t remember how long it has been since I left FiM. It feels like a good while. Two, maybe three years I think (it might be more), but when I did I was younger than I am now and a lot less wiser concerning fiction. I still think it was a good decision to leave, and I don’t regret it. I know I haven’t regretted it concerning the story I’ve been working on before leaving. My frustration at the time was trying to understand the craft I was taking up to improve the quality of my story

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My fingers are the leash holding me.

My mind is the house I've built.

I am at a place where my words finally mean something.

Outside, I am vulnerable and weak.

But in here, I am immortal.

Nothing can hurt me here.

I am safe now.