It is important to take a step back every once in a while and discern the reasons behind your decisions. Most times I try not to do this because I already know the answer. We all make decisions with a hidden motive. For what? men? fame? validation?
Hearts yearn to be heard and seen. Mine is no different. I said earlier I feel called to be a writer.
I. AM. A. WRITER. Yep, it still resonates.
The gentle pull of heart strings as I think of the words that have yet to be put down on white. Whether or not one is read, it is still in the system to get words out. My mom said the other day “I write journals, because I have to many words to be listened to.” My heart cried out. I get it.
I have dreams that need to be written down because there is not enough interest to be listened to.
Would I stop writing if I wasn’t given a prompt? Most likely. I would find other avenues to get my itching fingers satisfied.
I would prefer to keep going for one reason.
If I stop writing I believe I’m a failure. But I’m not. So here I am evaluating the reason why I want to continue writing.
1. I want to live in my dreams
2. I desire to communicate with those who don’t like to use verbal words
4. I believe in hoping in the hopeless but only by the imagination
5. I want to escape reality
I want to escape reality.
That is the root of my reason to write. To escape this world that has tangled all of its gnarly fingers around my body and is digging it’s nails deep into my soul. I can’t help but be sucked into the worlds ugly, but by writing I get a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel.
My heart beats honest and true when I write. And when I finish I crave to do more.
Only to escape my reality.
When can we really live in a world that is not our own? Through movies, books and songs. No wonder it is so easy to dive into such things so easily. We crawl back to them wanting more because the first time was not enough. Nor was the second, or the third. It is a craving that you want for the rest of your life.
I want to write about love.Love that I don’t think I’ll ever let myself really accept.
Life, life that I desperately want but can’t seem to let go of my insecurities.
Hope, hope that I say I have, but in all honesty I am an old woman dying in misery because I feel hopeless.
To write is to live in a world where the sun is always shining, where love surrounds you, where hope comes from deep inside you and makes you full of life.
To write is to share what we really desire.
I will keep writing.