I write because I need to.
I don’t mean that in a metaphorical way. I literally need to. My emotional stability depends on it. I get sad when I can’t get my thoughts out. My own self-talk poisons me into a horrible depressive state that nothing but time can alleviate.
Time and words.
I have words. I always have. I was gifted with my ability to use them. So many beautiful, elaborate, dreamy words. Sometimes, they’re healthy. Other times, not so much. They beg for escape. Pounding on the walls of my mind until I set them free or choke them back. I’ve lost track of so many lovely words, simply because I refused to give them free reign. Story ideas, feelings I needed to express. All gone back into the recesses of my imagination. Sometimes they come back in snippets, but never as fully formed as the original emergence. I’ve decided to stop letting them escape. I’m writing everything down now.
Keeping my words restrained isn’t healthy. I’ve taken years to come to terms with this. I’ve wasted a lot of time keeping my words cooped up like so many chickens. But I’m done with that now.
There’s things I want to say. Things I may or may not be able to say aloud. Messages that I need to get across. They may not matter to anyone else, but they are important to me. Everyone has an opinion on everything. Myself included. I used to keep that opinion to myself for various reasons. Fear. Insecurity. Not wanting to make waves. Those days are behind me.
My personal philosophy is to be like water. Water is deep. Water is calming. Water is flexible.
If I’m being like water…
I have to embrace all of its forms. The flowing river and the raging torrent.
I’ve been calm for long enough. It’s tsunami time.
I’m ready to start making waves again.