Inspiration Via the Form of a Boosk.

After writing yesterday's post, I became very agitated. I kept reading it over and over again and I felt like I wasn't able to truly get across what I was trying to say. I asked Andrew to analyze it (because he's the best husband ever:), and he sort of got it but not quite to the extent I was aiming for.
I became more frustrated,
And, like he always does, he listened to me rant on and on about the way my brain works, jumping from one random thought to the other, protecting itself and my heart from the wall I put up years ago. I'm so scared to break down that wall because all of that pain is lingering there, awaiting my arrival and I'm not sure I'm ready for it.
I'm not sure I ever will be.
He then asked me if I ever considered trying to write from a fictional aspect, creating a character who is more or less me, but not labeling it as myself.
As he was asking me this, my thoughts went on a rampage as I tried to store and memorize each one for future chapters.
I of course, fought the idea at first. How am I supposed to write about a fictional character who is truly myself? How does that work? How is it any different from writing from a non-fiction angle?
He left the room and I stared at my computer screen.
And I began to type.
30 minutes later, I had the beginnings of a chapter. Two pages, single spaced that were completely raw and true...and about me. The words were all thoughts I must have tucked away at some point in my life and they came out so freely and so flowing. I had no idea that they were even there or why I wrote about that certain time in the first place. It just came out and I was happy by the product and felt better once I got it out on paper in the "open". 
Funny thing is, I didn't feel defeated. I thought that if I went back there, I would break down and that old familiar pain would overcome me.
It didn't. It just made me feel more empowered, knowing I had lived the scene I had just panned out...and that I had survived it all.
Suddenly, the thoughts are pouring out and I can't get them written down fast enough. 
I'm not sure how this worked, but I'm not complaining.
Thank you boosk for being my inspiration every day. And thank you for knowing me more than anyone else and for listening to all of the ramblings of my brain as I try to figure out my next "project" or "endeavor". Most importantly, thank you for loving me in spite of all of this.
You are my muse and I am forever grateful to you.