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Sunday, January 13, 2013


Sometimes I overflow with words. Old bits and pieces of  arguments I have had and books I have read, movies I have watched and speeches I have heard fight for space in my brain. They mix and match and march out of my head in a haphazard manner and at those times I wonder why anyone thinks it’s wrong to speak out loud.

Sometimes I am filled with silence. One so vast it feels empty, there is nothing in there, no thoughts thumping around, no songs whispering in my ear. Just silence. So deep it feels like I am lost in a deep valley somewhere, so deep that the sun doesn’t really reach the floor, so deep that the shadows of the peak start halfway down and from where I am standing all I can see is the shadow of a shadow of a shadow. Sometimes this is peaceful, sometimes I just want the noise back, I want the words to dig me out of the valley, to carry me to the sun again even though I know it will scorch me and I know that the words it speaks will create too much noise for me to hear myself think.

Sometimes I wake up happy for no reason at all. There is a song on my lips and a smile in my face. I greet everyone  I meet thinking to spread it around, it’s a deep happiness, one that doesn’t seem like it will go away and for a day I am happy as can be.

Sometimes I wake up and feel like I am disappointing somebody. A vague someone somewhere who expected so much of me. On those days I can read disappointment in everything. The looks from my family, the words they say, and the silences they don’t. on those days I want to get in bed and sleep but can’t because I stew in that disappointment, unable to turn around enough that it can’t find me. Unable to cover myself up with enough darkness that it can’t see me. On those days more than the valley days I look for a distraction, I try to find a way to stop being myself, a way to be someone else. Anyone. So I’ll read a really sad book, watch a really touching movie, listen to a song that speaks straight to me past the feelings I have of disappointment and betrayal. On those days.

Sometimes I think of the night. In her I see all the things I could want out of life. I see mystery and adventure and curiosity. I see things that I could never really know and maybe never should. There I see all the beauty of wherever I am shaded in pastels of blue and black. There are times when the stars peek through the darkness, a million shining angels watching over the earth, just watching though because if they dared to come any closer affect what was happening we would all burn up. Then there are times of the strong moonlight, so clean, so powerful. Sauron’s eye looking down on us. And then I want to live in the night. To walk in it. To talk in it. To just be.

Sometimes I look at the day. there are days when the sun’s light is filtered through white clouds until it becomes grey. Then there are places where it breaks through these clouds. It shines down like a stairway to heaven and it makes me believe or at least want to. There are things you can see in the clear light of the sun, a flower shining just so, a rainbow caught traped in the middle of a teardrop, the translucence of the skin of a pretty girl, things that just blow you away. There are things you can see in the clear light of the sun that make you believe you are looking out of the pupils of a god. On those days I want to believe.

Sometimes I think it’s getting better. The world and all in it. The arc of the universe is long but it bends towards justice said Theodore Parker. These are words I want to believe. I want to believe that man treats man better and better as time goes by. I want to believe there are more people happy, more people fulfilled, more people satisfied than ever before. I want to believe that we are on the right track as a species, a track that will take us to nirvana.

Sometimes I think that’s stupid. I feel like nothing is getting better and I hear words of greed everywhere I look, more instances of pain and suffering abound than used to. Wars are longer and more complex than they seemed to be before. I question the motives of every state and government in their actions and a small part of me awaits personal betrayal because this happened to everyone else what makes me think I could be more special.

Sometimes I want to pour out all I am feeling. To speak about loneliness and pain and anger. To hold forth on fear, hopelessness and despair. To feel less alone. Then I realise this means I want other people to be feeling this too.

Sometimes I want to lock it in. to put it behind a room that no one can find but me. To throw away a key that no one can use but me. To put on a brave face and hide behind epitaphs of how ok I am.



  1. The beauty of being a gifted writer (and you are) is that you can express how you feel, especially when you don't want to be feeling it. And sometimes, that makes it all okay. :-)