You know, at some point in my life, I started to avoid writing. I avoided it, despite all the joy and ambition it drugged me with. When writing, I could go anywhere, be who I truly am, and work towards a bright, successful future…

But writing is no different than dreaming, and dreams, dug up from memories and subconscious thoughts, are how your heart and brain speak to you. Writing became a vulnerable outlet of truth when I wanted to dictate the truth. I couldn’t write, because writing revealed who I really am to the world and myself.

Writing told me when it was time to move on. Writing revealed that I wasn’t as in love as I thought I was. Writing rationalized what I wanted to be angry about. Writing told me that I wasn’t as bad as I wanted to believe. Writing teared out my heart, brain, and guts, and forced me to look at it.

When I think I’m safe, it slithers into my ear and whispers, “I know you better than you ever will.”

It’s right.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s