I lost a week. Seven entire days have somehow scampered off to parts unknown, taking with themselves any memory of what I may have done during that time. I seem to be healthy and unharmed, yet I feel as if I must keep this absence a secret from the world. It is too strange a feeling to describe to others, so I shall only tell you, my little paper confidant.
Seven days is not a long time, but the world is different now. I seem to have drawn closer to certain friends, and I have lost others. My heart is both cheered and broken. I may look the same on the outside, but inside, you might not even recognize this strange little writer girl. It was a very long seven days that passed in the blink of an eye. But I have returned, and I know more of who I am. These next seven days I have vowed to use as a forge, and I will heat myself in the fire of my life, and when I have cooled enough to be safe to touch again, I shall be stronger, sharper, easier to trust and quick to defend. My pen remains mighty, but I shall be the sword.