Wash out, flush out, get rid of and remove. Eliminate, eradicate, and do away with. Cleanse and purify.
My system, my thoughts, my feeling, my emotions, my soul. Air the cobwebs of my mind. They clamor, jumping over each other to be heard. Let me out. Type frantically till my fingers ache, and I’m exhausted.
Catharsis. Write, write, write, and pour it all out. My very own “Anne Frank”. My non-judgmental one. My friend, my foe, my lover.
And when it’s all over, slip into quite solitude. Deep breathes, and pools of relaxation in an imaginary Zen garden.
The voices are silenced. All is well.