It’s been days since I’ve written anything. No journals, no posts, no novels, no stories. I’ve done little except escape into fiction books of dubious authorship and drink. Oh, and plan a little party for Abel that went well considering how my week had been. Why do I do this? Why is it when I most need to look at my feelings, I ignore my best coping skill? I can’t answer that right now. That is a question for another day. For today, I am feeling sad and scared. I feel like a failure or at least like I’m going to fail. Where’s that magic wand when I need it…