Why do I sit and write, read and rewrite, write and reread? Add and delete. Modify. Undo and redo. Leave untouched and retouch. Why hover perpetually vacillating over the post button? Should I? Shouldn’t I? Is it worthy? Is it not? Does it reveal something? Nothing?
Because while the writing is mine, my opinion, my world view. My world view; an ever shifting landscape shaped and reshaped by what I see, hear, taste, touch, smell. There is a small part of me that wants to let it out; to share. I know how to share in so many ways but this is new – uncharted.
Do I seek recognition of these views, these words? Sometimes, every now and then; a small yearning for affirmation. A desire for understanding; to be understood. Other times they are words just set free; to be.
Some words tumble out of my thoughts at such a speed it is hard for my physical self to keep up. To pen the words before they fade. They almost come out in perfectly formed sentences. They yearn and embrace release. Leap out for joy in their rush toward independence/freedom.
Yet others are excruciating. They are there wanting to form yet not knowing how. Wanting for release yet somehow stuck…the inner self afraid of what their release will bring. When they do finally flow they bring an explosion; a catharsis. Some need sharing, yet others, whilst finally penned and thrust into the reality of black and white, formed on the page, seek to remain hidden. To be kept on the page where they fell but the book to remain firmly closed. To be released but not seen. To sit on the edge of revealing; yet remain cloaked. To be penned in invisible ink never to be seen. Never really quite released.
There are those still that even when penned are cloaked in the veneer of another person; the ‘third person’. Kept at arm’s length via a play of perspective. She not I. They not we. Them not us.
An exploration of the places outside, within and between.