I have words to say, but I don’t know how to say them. Words that are gasping for breath, that just want out, Words that pining for freedom in this mind that is binding them.
They are suffocating
suffocating
suffocating
Yet I don’t know how to free them.
Not yet, not now.
But I need to write, I need to write.
So I write about writing. I have become quite good at that it seems. Writing about writing. Blogging about blogging. Writing is a sacred process that I’m still trying to understand.
It’s quarter to one. I need to write. I have homework to finish. I need to write. Late night? Yes. Tomorrow too probably what’s new?
These bursts of passion come sometimes so much on my mind. I know I have responsibilities. My homework is calling. Yet I can’t keep myself from writing what needs to be written. What needs to be written isn’t coming, so here I am writing about writing.
Writing about writing as I do.
And still, the words won’t come.
Perhaps if I sleep on it…
B
From February 11, 2015
It's a Britta Bottle! 
Cool stream of consciousness. You could make it make less sense and then maybe the words will come and then maybe they will organise them selves eventually and start making perfect sense?
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Thank you, Chrissie! I wrote this a few weeks ago and was able to write down everything I was unable to get down in that moment the next day…sleeping on it did help. Maybe next time I’ll try that! 🙂
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