Let's practice.

When I do not write for a long time, I feel a void. I think about writing all the time, I formulate sentences and titles in everyday instances. Sometimes I think I might have a glaze over my face or I stare off blankly because I am trying to formulate my story or maybe I'm just really feeling it. I make up sentences for a particular instance I am feeling. I tie nouns with sounds. Verbs with heartbeats. Time takes over.

Often, I think about my fears. I think about regrets. I think about the bad stuff, the negative stuff, the things that I am most embarrassed about. It's like life is currently this really rickety see-saw and I'm just trying to find a balance. The balance of absorbing everything, absorbing new friends, remembering old friends, new people, new lives, new nuances. The balance.

Meanwhile, I falter back and forth unable to really hold on to anything.

Telling my story. People who are good at telling their story, exposing their inner selves to the exterior, are perhaps those that are most content with their lives. I'm trying to tell my story. I'm not sure how to tell my story but everyday I spend a large portion of my time reading other people's stories and absorbing them. Everyone has a story. I have a story. What is the story that you want to tell? What is the story that you want people to see?

Story. The pages turn and slip through friction.

I struggle with this - the thought of telling my story. How? How do I do that? How can I do that in a clean creative amazing way? I think about this too much. Perhaps my story is to be a mess. Perhaps my story is to be filled with regret and embarrassment, contradictions and confusion. Perhaps my story is not so cookie cutter. Perhaps what I want is not likely. My story is not likely. I try so much to tell my story and wonder how many people are really listening to it?

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My hands hurt. The keyboard makes it hurt. The typing. They are stiff and this bothers me. What if my hands won't work anymore if I keep typing? Here I am typing. Here I am hurting but typing.

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If I have the ability to see people's goodness - when will I embrace mine? 


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On another train of thought, I'm overwhelmed with life that I think I'm losing my hair.