Sunday, January 17, 2016

500 Words. Day 2. The struggle is already real.


My current view, hiding behind my screen and drinking tea at a coffee shop.


What do I say when I don’t even know where to start?

Is it more stream of consciousness? Maybe that’s the only way I’ll get through this writing challenge. Simply allowing my fingers to fly over the keyboard as I try to stay out of my own way. 

I feel blocked, as if nothing I have to say is good enough for 500 words.

I can’t write. I don't know what to write about. This is going to be a very boring challenge if this is what I will be typing out for the next 30 days. 

After the anger has passed in a situation, what is left? I’m aware of a space, a moment in time where I feel nothing. My anger is so strong, so vibrant, it burns through me with such ferocity that I have nothing left for a brief second. In that limited time, I sense a fleeting awareness of how human I am. 

The reason I can’t write today is because I feel empty. This moment of nothingness is stretching on for what feels an eternity. Trying to use words to describe what I’m experiencing is proving difficult. In these spaces I truly feel that I have no way of adequately describing my thoughts and feelings. 

When I worry about what I’m writing, and how other people will react to it is when I feel myself censoring my thoughts. These are the moments when I want to write, when I want to open myself up, spill myself across the page and I don’t. When I want my writing to be pristine, perfect. When I want it to evoke feelings and responses. I want you to understand me, to know exactly what I’m feeling. In this space is when I feel the most lost. 

These are the moments that I wish I had continued writing consistently throughout my life. Anytime someone asks me what I do for a hobby, I always list writing. But how can writing be my hobby if I don’t spend time with it? 

I feel wrung out, limp, as if all of my emotions and responses have been used up. I don’t want to do anything, I don’t want to interact with anyone. I simply want to observe. I want the company of another, but not the conversation. The gentle supportive physical touch, but not the verbal connection. I want to lay down my armour, to bare myself in front of this person, but without words. This is the intimacy that I crave. I want them to see me for who I am, the vulnerable parts of me that I keep hidden from others. I lock myself up tight, yet find myself wishing they had the key. I crave this vulnerability, this ability to be truly myself.

I’ve made it this far. Struggled is a more accurate term. Can I make it through the remaining days of this challenge? This is close enough for today. Good job to me. I’ve made it.

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