I've been looking for answers. To a question I don't even know the words to. Or have too many words for. Too many questions. What kind of exercise can I commit to? How can I get a job I like? How do I make friends? How do I live on my own? I know the answer to these. I just haven't let myself sit in the discomforting quiet long enough for the answers to become clear. My version or flavour of discomforting quiet is writing with that spark of spite, rage, heat, passion. The small flickering flame that burns hot...