I stay silent
I feel as if I’m a burden, a gnat in your face, a hangnail
That and when I think by myself, I can think of amazing things, beautiful journeys, then when I sit down at my screen, nothing. Blank. Crickets. A tumbleweed in the wind.
Then a pen. Oh a pen. My pen is my waterfall. It flows and bubbles and excites and rejuvenates my senses and my brain can finally empty.
Then…… nothing. Random chicken scratch. Pretty sure it’s not really English. Or even a complete thought.
But then I have a little recorder and then whenever I speak I think before it is released from my mouth. I know I have it now, I’ve got this idea and it’s going to be on big post it notes around my office. This is it. Nope! Mush mouth. When I try to gather words I am left confused at my own word choice and even doubt basic English skills.
I have ideas. Plenty. Truck loads. Good. Bad. Ugly. Graphic. Dark. Safe. Wrong. All of it. Things that should be said, things that shouldn’t. My head is a labyrinth of dreams, wishes, lists, lyrics, poetry, stories, random giggles. But tonlet my head wander, oh how it lives to wander and explore and read and dive into information and stories and words and maps.
The valleys that hold memories. The oasis of scented reminders. The stories. Oh the stories. The treasure trove of memories, good and bad, some bring tears, others laughter. Some bring graditute for where I am.
The pieces that made me. The pieces that built me. Why change anything? Yes, regrets can weigh heavy on ones shoulders but they are my stories. I am who I am and I love who I am. I know who I am.
But I pick silence. I stay on paper and here, in virtual ink. I know I’m too much for people. And I’m ok with that. Read if you want. Don’t read. Your choice. That’s the beauty of silence. You can fill it with what you want.