The Sea of Words

You know, I have always got this burning feeling in my chest. It’s not so much physical as a soul-deep sensation, a need to express myself. Who knows why, I could probably come up with a list as long as my arm of potential culprits, but the simple fact remains that I have a lot to say.  I’ve had a few people on my Facebook get irritated because I share so much..  Pictures, thoughts, things that happen, what’s on my mind.  There’s a multitude of possible reasons, but for the most part, it all comes down to one simple concept: I want someone to hear me.

I had this thought years ago, and unfortunately I lost the notebook in one of my many moves, but the thought still remains. I had read an article or a blog post that said basically that we humans tend to want to act as though we are psychic.  We imagine what the other person is feeling, saying, thinking, because we so desperately want to know.  We desperately want that connection, to understand, because no one can fully understand everything inside another person’s head. I think that’s why I like the internet.. I can put pieces of myself as I feel urged, and just let them go.  I consider it more like planting the idea and letting it grow. I think that’s why I like this writing class so much, he explained the style we use of writing as “They say, I say”.  You respond to another person.  The thing is, with my blogs, I’m responding to an entire array of things I have taken in, and I can’t always remember what they are, so I just talk.

I have had a book sitting in my other computer for almost six months now. It’s called “Corporate Wars” and I have 25,000 words in it. I got stuck, and then I got afraid of delving too deeply into it.  That’s my problem, you see..  I am dissatisfied with the world I live in, so I seek to explain why in creative writing.  I could write forever. I could talk about my opinions in blog posts, spit out ideas from everything.

By that I mean I saw a cigarette butt, and had a “flash” of the beginning scene of a story, and the story started blossoming around the idea. I had no paper to write on at the time, but it’s archived somewhere in my brain.  I have so much to say, so much to share, and I don’t know how to start.  I’m afraid of losing myself in that sea of writing, losing my identity.  But maybe in a way I’d gain my identity or strengthen it by doing so..  I don’t know.  I’ve been to the brink of madness, and I’ve swum (swam?  What a word..) in the depths of it.  I emerged, and I’m afraid of losing myself again.  But maybe this time I have an anchor, a rope to pull myself free with.


~ by araelysia on November 18, 2012.

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