If I would just write. I mean really write. I know I could accomplish something with it. Even if the something was nothing more than the long overdue clearing of my head and my heart. These thoughts grown stale. These feelings wilted from lack of nourishment.

I can still do it, you know. I can still let my fingers tap-tap-tap away on my keyboard and watch words appear on my screen. I'm doing it right now, actually. But these words aren't me. These words are just shadows of who and what I am. My tap-tap-tapping fingers force the words into the light, and they disappear.

Where do shadows go when the light shines?

And what's left behind, when the shadows are gone?