I stood stranded but not by the words of others, but by the words my own self. The fact remains the same, and yet I keep questioning the existence in the talents and creative works I strive to perfect. My knowledge of the industry has turned into a chaotic battle of love turned to hate, mostly an anxious worry zone with flashing yellow lights, warning me of rocky weather. Who am I to be if not the writer, dreamer I have always believed myself to be? There was a strange coincidence, one that didn't belong to me, or anyone's life. One that merely took up space waiting for someone to doubt their abilities to perform a better outcome. One person who fell short and stopped questioning the very pull and intuition in his or her own heart/soul. Can you believe we lie to ourselves in such a way? Reminding the mockery of men that they are right and we could never add up to whatever has been estimated as justifiable, on good graces. Rumors were spread that the talent in my fingertips will explode and one day the whole world will listen to the tantalizing words or phrases I try to convince true.
My thoughts removed, for good reason. Now I am a blank canvas waiting to be washed away from the blank screen I stare at all alone.
Where are the rehabilitation centers for the writers in pain? Our strong urges creating rifts in the textile world, we are but artists in a community of business suits. My hair waved in a fire red, demanding attention, commanding to be heard. Our skin bleached white with the hope mistakes will fade away. Does it occur too many that the transgression of words will reflect in those we found fictionally relevant?
A long exhale before we read the next sentence that has yet to be written…I have yet to find my muse, find the pilgrimage to a wonderful life. But yet I wake up and click on the computer screen staring into a blank canvas, awaiting the amazement as I type so carefully the fluent letters I have once or always rejected. Remembering I have loved the idea of them long before they came along to me.
–S.M. Bjarnson
No comments:
Post a Comment