You said something about my writing always being so sad and somber.
I'm sorry for that. Over the years, I've realized that my expression in writing, especially in places like this, these silly online blogs or journals or diaries... whatever you want to call them... that they have become dumping grounds mostly.
When I was young I wrote much of my spiritual exploits and my lessons learned. It's sort of neat to look back at those entries and see where I was and what I was thinking at the time, little bits and pieces of my life earlier to give some sort of insight or marking point in my growth as an individual.
Today, these little blogs don't serve the same purpose, as you can tell. My writing has become dark and cynical, surely. It's all due to life lived and introspection galore.
I kind of likened it to this: I'm patient, and I do believe in facing things head on... difficult things that would otherwise drive me up the wall and back down. This writing has been my method my disconnection or my letting go rather of certain things. I have put things that I wanted to get past here: terrible things that have happened to me, things that weigh so absolutely heavy on my heart, thoughts and doubts in my mind that I know will do a bad thing should they be left to bounce around and dwell inside of my skull... things that make me sad mostly, burdens I cannot bear alone.
We had our time, we did, that was just so pleasant regardless of any conflict or secrets revealed. I never wrote about that until now, you know... all these wonderful little things we had.
Back to my point about what I've likened this to...
These things that weigh heavy on me for whatever reason they do, I've always wanted to be done with them... be away with them, and this is the place where I kind of left them. It's been this vast, endless field where I can just chuck my junk as far as I can throw it... and I did, I do... I will probably keep doing it.
The beautiful, the lovely things... things like you and the love that was there, those things I never wanted to put down because I wanted to hold onto them myself. I never trusted a stupid little blog that could be wiped clean in a moment to hold my most wonderful and precious memories. I could never expect it to contain the happiness that my heart could, so I never wrote about it. I never expressed enough, I suppose, how absolutely happy I was. I was elated... it was all ethereal.
It left me in awe in the most beautiful of ways... I didn't want to let it go. I didn't want it to escape me, and it never did as you'll see now in my detailed writings...
The valve has been opened, and it's all just pouring out now because I don't think I can contain these once beautiful things anymore... not if you're not around anyway.
I'm sorry I was not more vocal about how happy I was.
I really was happier than I may have ever been... other than maybe once or twice, and both of those other occurrences involved God Himself, so I'd say that's not bad company to have there...
I had the world, and I didn't talk about it too much because I wanted to hold onto it myself. I was afraid of being robbed of such memories and experiences... that you all intertwined in them. These most precious precious things were my very very valuable treasure...
I can't even stay awake anymore.. I'm passing out.
I wish I were in Savannah again...
No comments:
Post a Comment