I never thought I’d be writing again quite honestly since the events that fateful demise of what I consider my penchant for writing, but what I know more intimately as my soul. I’d never think that writing this piece, which learning how to walk after having your legs taken away, would be a plain and simple blog entry. I hate talking about myself in writing. It felt awkward, like being naked in public. There are no masks to hide myself behind, no pretentious facades to play, no smokes and mirrors of apathy and false emotions, even if you are seemingly talking to yourself, each word typed reeks of honesty, and what you’ll soon read is the truth, and its not easy to look at. And the truth is I became so engrossed with all the sh*that has happened in the past that i’d lost sight of why I wrote in the first place. Every poem and prose I had written was an embodiment of pure emotion and free thought that I was fortunate enough to put into form and structure. All of the verses filled me with a sense of nostalgia, a sense of freedom that I know I’ll never find but won’t stop looking for. Reading any composition of mine made me feel like a stranger to myself, and meeting me for the first time. It was why I wrote, it wasn’t about recognition or having fun, it was about writing something I’d read at the end of the day, and more importantly seeing myself in every work, even if I don’t recognize me at first. Having said all of that, I don’t know if I’ll be able to write like I used to.
But if this is will be the last thing I write then let it be a single stone on a nameless grave, if not then it’s the beginning of my reincarnation. -graydarksoul-
