I love writing. I can’t get enough of it since it returned to me after abandoning me for about six months. I also love hearing from those who read my posts. I’m too solitary these days. Too often sitting at home alone. It is a fine balance for a writer. If we don’t experience life then how can we write? My imagination is good but often my stories are interwoven with my life experiences. Sometimes I embellish them a bit by changing the scene or having a character do something I’ve never done and trying to imagine how I would feel in such a situation. It is how I live out my fantasies.
It is also how I will at times come to terms with my emotions. I’m not demonstrative in my emotions. Even feelings of strong anger are held at bay, deep inside. Tears rarely if ever stream down my cheeks.
My solitude has kept me safe. Kept me from venturing out into life which in the past has shown me can and does become painful. I’m gun shy now. I meet other people and for a few moments I might enjoy speaking with them, learning bits and pieces about them but in short order I’m slithering back into the safe confines of my cave writing out my fantasies.
I used what has happened over ten years ago and now more recently the events of this past year, as excuses. It is far easier to hide within my walls, than it is to venture out and risk the bruises and scarring which life can cause. I don’t hide in legal or illegal substances. I don’t let anything but my own willpower cushion the swirling bubbling chaotic mess of my emotions. But then I don’t have to after learning so well how to pretend they don’t exist.
So, in my writing, I let myself feel and express and relive and create and conjure and imagine all the things I would not do, or may find myself wanting but am so very afraid to explore. If it seems my stories end, just when you wanted them to continue, it might be, because I have reached an impasse. A place where life and I have yet to know well enough in order to write about it.
I feel as though I am still a child. A child who has not yet learned to walk and dreams about it every day. A child who can imagine what it might feel like, yet knowing there is so much she does not know and therefore her imagination is limited. Limited to that moment, that feeling, that desire, that need which she may never be able to experience.