I think its funny how the very people who called my writing a "hobby" and wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole are the first to ask me (now that I haven't penned anything longer than a blog in over two years) "what are you working on now", and saying things like "You're the writer, you should...."
I'm like... Oh NOW I'm the writer? Now that I'm not writing... I'm the writer....
People SUCK sometimes...
I'm not blocked, I'm not stuck, I'm not motivated...
It's just that simple.
It's like having been married to the mate of your dreams... Not everyone liked that mate of yours but it didn't matter... that mate was one who satisfied you in every way. The two of you had been best of friends your whole life. Against all odds you stood together through thick and thin... and then... one night... just after you had sat by the warm fire planning the rest of your life together... maybe a long trip together... a relaxing vacation of a lifetime... a thief broke in and shot your dream lover in the eye killing them DEAD... dead I tell you... dead dead ............... dead, and not only that... they then STOLE THEIR BODY... took it for their own.
All that you have left are memories.... you didn't even have anything to bury.
You have memories of their clothes, their shoes... their soul... but no BODY.... nothing in which to put those memories in or on...
I feel that way.
When I take out paper, I feel as though... it will dissolve as soon as I apply ink. I feel as though the minute I fall in love again.... the same thing will happen... the thief will come and destroy everything.
I feel like the only safe place for my writing is in my heart... my mind... my memories.
I don't know what will make this fear go away. I don't know how to take away the trauma of what happened to me as a writer...
Some say... WRITE. That will fix it.
I'm listening to you. I'm listening to you.
But right now... I'm not so sure I can really hear you.
~MeCheeism 2014
Saturday, April 5, 2014
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