Why is it that when colossal things happen we run out of things to say? Or when there is a mega-something brewing within us we cannot articulate ourselves, at least well enough to let it all out?
It has been a habit, or a weakness, of mine, being at a loss each time larger than life things happen to me – good or bad, somehow they act like giant erasers annihilating my ability to bleed my letters. I hate it.
No matter how hard I try to undermine it, writing is my one true love and it can really be a pain to be all messed up, weaving words feels like chewing broken glass.
But I have to admit, sometimes I really do choose to withhold my inner ink when certain circumstances happen… that I do not want to remember – virtual or not, once you write it down it’s there and it is as if it has flesh and blood, making it more real, which can be a plus, or not.
I love to go type-type. It is as if I understand myself better this way. But life – life sometimes keep me away from it… as it always does with everything else.