Sometimes, I feel lost.
Now is one of those times.
I look at the vacant spaces and have to accept
that nothing has stopped me from living but me.
Sometimes, I look for inspiration.
Nowadays, it only makes me feel
weaker, sadder, handicapped, fruitless and scared.
What ought to inspire me pulls me down.
Sometimes, I want to escape
to another city, to a farm or another country.
But I know that there is no escape
from what I carry in my head.
Sometimes, I want to die
and that tells me I forgot to take a pill,
the little blue one
that makes me like everyone else.
Sometimes, I sit down to write.
And I find myself.
And people tell me I inspire them.
And I am content in my head, and alive.
(1:20 pm, Friday 3rd May. No edits.)
2 comments:
I really enjoyed reading this. I can relate on a multitude of levels. Thank you for sharing !
Thank you too! For taking the time and effort to tell me :-) I'm so glad to hear this, because it's only in the last year or so that I've realised this is one of the most important reasons to share one's work - because someone out there will relate to it in some way. Earlier, I used to hum and haw over my writing because it was never "perfect" enough to share (and we all know how impossible that is to achieve!) and now I realise how foolish that is. Now I let the words go where they will, and am finding that this is a much happier situation :-)
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