Tuesday, September 29
Pieces of me
Writing for me is not an option. I love swinging on vines of imagination, where anything is possible. Where I can be deep, dark and edgy or casual light and breezy or even weird and quirky. Where my tears shine like rain drops, my smiles brighten the world. Where I can feel and think and want and need sans judgement. Where I can break. Where I can heal. Its a place within that frightens me even when it makes me feel the most safe. What you read is not my reality. I am my writing but my writing is not me.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Writting is a way of life for many. It's an escape and it heals. It can take you places andhelp you find yourself, when lost and when on your journey home. I find solace in writting too and it leads me to question my deepest recollections of what is and is only pieces of what I can see. It takes me further and I let it guide me through pieces of puzzle in this life.
Post a Comment