May 21, 2011

• To say

  There's so much inside of me, so many things I want to say, to write all the time. There was a time when I did, and then a long time when I didn't. There was always much to say, which is to say there was always things I was feeling, things I was noticing, life I was living. But I didn't always know the ways to say it. Sometimes what I had to say was too painful. Life hurt a little. And sometimes a lot. Often I didn't want to hear what I had to say.

  But ultimately, I'm always drawn to writing. Or maybe writing is drawn to me. In any case when I don't do it I think about it. Or I write in my head, which is sometimes effective but never long lasting. I need to do it for myself. I need to do it for moments like now, as I'm sitting in the dark writing on a bed in my aunt's house in Trinidad, ceiling fan and frogs and late night bar music all in a symphony. I need to do it when I feel like this, strangely magical, oddly powerful. I think writing chose me, and I'm not doing it's choice any justice.

  Frankly, I've got so much to say.

   

   

   

  • 12:48 am
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