… words.

Words. I used to be so good at them. Putting them together to create a story that somehow expressed who I was, where I had been, and the people that I had met. Words. Somehow they’ve changed from these cavalier building blocks of day-to-day simplicity to something dangerous and dark. Things that have evolutionary meanings to emotional strangers. Words. How they come back and bite you in the arse when you least expect it.These past few restless weeks of cocooning, a result of immense pressures stemming from work, my desperate need to find someone else so that I didn’t think of the past, and my wanting to be more than I really am. Fortunate, a cocoon protects you from the harsh realities of a world crumbling behind. Forcing you to let go of a childish past and embrace an adult future. Something that takes you from one zone to the next: comfort to battle.In the darkness of a spring Sunday afternoon cocoon, you get a lot of time to reflect on the future and the lessons from the past. I want these new words of honesty to make things right, but it’s the wrongs that make these words come to life. It’s in the living that we realise that maybe … maybe we’re so used to shifting blame to others. In shifting blame to careless words spoken in a carefree way when you know the consequences of them regardless.I wanted so much more for my life.I wanted so much more … and now it’s the time make it. This, being the 3rd incarnation of what started out as an aimless project, is going to be something more personal than ever before. No pretence. No fore-thought to what people might want to see, want to read, want they imagine that distorts what I want to write. So, getting back to basics in every aspect of my life is what I now crave. First impressions; – experiences; – desires; – for the first time I am going to be me.I might be down, but this is the first round, and you better believe I’m a fighter.

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One Response to “… words.”

  1. I believe it. And this is an excellent place to begin. At the centre.

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