It feels like it’s been a long while since this blog has contained anything personal. It’s all me, I agree to that point completely but this Blog is my sanctuary. I have opened it up to you all, mainly as an experiment, maybe a question. But it is still my sanctuary and I don’t like this fear that I’ll end up posting and writing for other people. If you read my posts thank you, if you comment I appreciate that and always try to respond but in my heart and mind this is still my escape. I know now that my family read this blog. At first I was surprised, confused and a bit wary about this but then I realised it was unimportant. Maybe it could be a good thing. Maybe that part of me that is reaching out in all directions is being heard. I wonder if when you read this you stop. You think to yourself that maybe we have more in common then I thought. Maybe you realise that your not alone and life could be worse. I think this almost every day to be honest. It’s like a stuck record sometimes – I will get down and sad – like everyone. But my way of dealing with it is, I can’t be sure but it feels different. I’ll let it get to me, because I can’t stop it. I’ll get angry, I’ll get upset, I’ll get embarrassed but by the next morning, or sometimes within hours I have forgotten the emotions that seemed so relevant and have found a new distraction. By letting these situations get to me I feel I encourage their natural progression – “if you can’t beat em join em”
If I’m feeling sad or lonely at night I get really bad insomnia, I can’t sleep and I find it difficult to switch off, much like now. So I read, I write and I watch mindless programs until I fall asleep. Being able to escape to another world and forget your troubles, forget the echoes of empty halls and hear only the voices inside your head. Those voices that are part of who you are, a conscience giving you hope and direction. Maybe a sense of belonging or direction. To judge and be judged and to make the choices that seem so difficult. I can’t sleep right now. My walls are bare, I have packed almost everything of importance and the time is coming. I can feel it.
I am scared of the changes I perceive and know are happening around me. Yet instead of hiding in a shell I reach out to the fear and accept it. Welcome the worry with open arms and call it adventure, call it a friend and an enemy, challenge it to beat me. I will never give in, I wish everyone had the same energy. Like a spinning top, round and round, constantly moving. The energy to say “Fck It” and to follow their dreams.
I know a lot of people worry about me when they read what I write – they think I am scared? alone? worried or maybe in trouble. Don’t, I am happy and I know what I want – this is what my soul looks like, twisted and confused but forever moving, my fingers typing, writing, expressing the thoughts that run through my head and change direction at the last minute. The ideas that flit into my brain for milliseconds, typed up and trapped. Pinned to the page like a butterfly. Frozen – a moment.
Words, to me. Are like pictures. They can express and convey a moment in time, a thought and an emotion – a combination that will never EVER happen again. Writing is an art – it doesn’t have to be fancy and it doesn’t have to make you smile, make you laugh or take you to another place. It just has to be.
Meaningless abuse of the power that you hold.
The impact of words is immeasurable, to some – you will smile. To others the same words make you cry, maybe just to stop and consider your own life? This is why you should never write for someone else, words are to powerful to be corrupted by greed and control, the pressure of your peers or your readers. They are a link to your soul and your being. If you let someone direct or control your soul then your life has no meaning. Your words are empty, the emotions mean nothing, just a shadow, an echo. In black on white. A shadow.