I've grown used to emptying my head at the end of the day. Just using you to help me sort my thoughts out and sometimes to help me know what I think about some things.
You've been great...so much more helpful to me that a diary or a journal. Anytime I've tried to keep either one of those I've found that I've started to disappear in a cloud of pomposity and introspection. I've been so busy trying to instil some weight or meaning into every day and it has been ponderous and turgid to write. So much of my life is very ordinary and mostly lived in a superficial way. It's just not really that big a deal, so trying to capture it in writing seemed really...pointless...
But somehow you are different.
At first I used you. Your purpose was simply to get me into the habit of writing and you did just that. Every day, sitting down in front of a blank screen and writing.
Sometimes the words would just tumble out...often shouting and noisy. At other times I've had to sit for a bit, writing the same thing over and over again until something caught.
Sometimes I was mesmerised and knew the pleasure of crafting words in order to have them say just what I wanted to say in the way that I wanted to say it.
It didn't take me long to enjoy the hours we spent together...I anticipated eagerly the hour when the house was still...no more needed to be done...and I could just write. If it was all flowing well then I felt as if the house breathed in and out with me. For the times of writing the same thing over and over again the doors and walls and windows held their breath and seemed to sigh with relief when I eventually completed what felt like a task.
Never. In. My. Life. have I been so committed to seeing something through. Never.
It may be true to say that writing for those days kept something alive in me...some vague notion of worth and purpose. I felt as if I was writing because my life depended upon it.
The fact that it seems that people read it and talk about what I've written is pretty amazing to me and I can't deny how much it pleases me. But I can't think about that too much because then it will become a worry about who reads it and what do they think and is it better than...? I know that will spoil this unexpected little pleasure for me...our relationship will change and there will be pressure about how I perform.
And it seemed that the purpose was to get beyond that...the purpose was to get to the heart of the thing and not get caught up in the frills and folderols...
To say how I saw it and to let everyone else think what they think and do what they have to do.
I've missed this sanctuary. This place of safety. This place of the heart. This place where I can be me...
So... I'm going to try and keep on going. Every day. Some small word.
My word.
Take it or leave it.
“Because no matter what they say, you always have a choice. You just don’t always have the guts to make it.”
