Sometimes when I write into this thing it feels like a letter to someone. To who? To myself? To my fake best self? To God? I don't believe in God. I remember this tweet I saw: you're in her DMs, I'm the nebulous "you" she addresses in her poems. I relate to that. 

Drove up to Elkton today, toward the Knights of the Golden Horseshoe pass on 33. The brewery was cute. There was a perfect rail line next to it in such a way that you could be completely at ease, enjoying your mediocre brew on the patio and then, out of the literal blue, a giant train could come thundering through. It was so loud that no one could talk, that the whole place rattled. I grew up in a train town too. I grew up hearing that regular iron thunderstorm every night and loving it. It felt secure; it felt like home.

And to you? Does it ever feel like that to you?