Nothing’s real until you let go completely.
So here I go with all my thoughts I’ve been saving,
So here I go with all my fears weighing on me.
And I don’t know,
I could crash and burn but maybe,
At the end of this road I might catch a glimpse of me.” -K.C.
A little bit ago I stopped writing the book. I have taken the words to a slower pace and have not spent the time watching them appear on the screen. I am taking a step back. I am taking a walk from it all. I am… I am hoping that I will return with a fresh perspective and some new thoughts. I spent a lot of time purging huge parts of my heart, and often felt there wasn’t enough time at hand to accomplish it all. Now, the words are slower. The thoughts are slower.
I know that I am a classic over-creative stimulated person, in that I take on many more projects at one time that I can actually accomplish, and in the wake of the ambition things get forgotten or left behind. The story I’ve been writing intentionally is not one of those. It is not one of those things that I will never get to. It’s just that the pages contain my heart, and I want to be sure that I am completely content and satisfied with the impression I make.
I’m waiting for all the thoughts I’ve been saving to start coming out, and I’m waiting for all the fears associated with being read and truly seen to be lifted. I am hoping most of all, that at the end of this road I might be able to catch a glimpse of the me I’ve been missing… a piece of me that I never knew before… perhaps the glimpse into the person I’m becoming. I wonder often that whom I’m seeking is already there, and the vision I think I might be met with isn’t going to be all that unfamiliar. I wonder if you already know that person. I wonder if the things that drive me crazy about myself, are the same things you to struggle to love. I wonder if that the glimpse of me will look a lot like your reflection.
Writing. A slower pace…I haven’t opened the document on my computer in a long time. Perhaps in the next few weeks I will find myself scrolling through what has already been written and I will find myself pecking away at the final pages. The end is so close. I am wrapping it all up. Draft one is almost done. And yet I sit unable to continue… according to practical thought I need to finish. To my emotional spirit, I’m just not ready, and I am ok with that.
No comments:
Post a Comment