don’t know how many words I’ve written yet I seem to want to write a few more.
On rainy nights when the snow should be falling, the words feel right when
there are none that I really need to say.
I want to do is unload and share what I really feel. To not just burn a bridge
but nuke the sucker down and laugh on the other side.
I want to do is to write for myself once more knowing nobody will ever read
these words and nobody really cares. To simply fill the lines of a notebook
while a teenager sits and wonders what’s out there and why the stars look so
bright in the country night sky. To only see a light from the dim bulb behind
me and not from the glow of the Macbook mocking me once more.
want the silence instead of the sounds. The interruptions. The voices. The
whispers. The guffaws. The sighs. The chuckles. The buzz.
are a hundred things I refrain from saying, even when it seems like I’ve said
quite enough thank you very much. There are a thousand questions I want to ask,
yet I need to just shut up and have faith.
the faith of a child. I have the faith of a teen, the doubt setting in but not
quite grown up just yet.
keys and chords of a piano makes sense. The three acts of a movie are easy to
follows. The division of chapters in a novel seem quite logical. But stepping
out of that into the real world with the real worries and the real wonders only
produce real woes. The infinite questions, the infinitesimal answers.
still and let go of the words.
and don’t keep asking.
let go of another day and another grip that’s so tight and so tough and so
in words I keep writing. In order to make sense.
in order to stay quiet.
to release the worry.
to let go and let . . .
Labels: Doubt, Ramblings, the future