Why do you write they ask? For years and years I wrote to find myself.
How hard it is for me to express verbally what I truly mean and anyway who really does care about my many thoughs. Once I scribble them on paper, I understand things and I can let go.
Years of journaling to understand.
But this sort of sadness always in me that won’t go, I curb it by using the words to transport me into this other world. Because I could not write the real, the mondaine. I do think of it, I do dwell on the big questions our civilization needs to ask but only for a moment. Because to stay there too long causes me extreme pain since I can do so little to help.
And so I carve the stories I want to love, full of powers that are not real, noble sentiments too pure to sustain in the real world. It’s better than any virtual reality created by others, it’s my own world and so private that I can let myself go and shape it’s magic all around me. Yes you may read it, or at least one of those world will be public for now but honestly, that’s just one of the vivid dreams I wanted to live and I have thousands more to come.
Still no revising today and the clock ticks.
Blessed Be
(as always click on the image at the top for the artist info)
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