Writing has been a way to express what my mind thinks and feels but cannot articulate. I often say that I could’ve written a few novels with elaborate thoughts, visions, and situational breakdowns that my mind goes through daily. Collectively, it could be a best-seller, and that would be where my “final break” comes from. Nice dreaming, I know.
Often I fumble with what to write because while I feel something with utmost passion at the moment, once I have moved on from that incredible journey my mind took, it is typically hard to come back to.
Think of it like this; You’re sitting outside in the perfect setting. It may be outside, and the senses are activated right at the right moment. The breeze blows just right, and the sweetest scent of flowers surrounds you. The trees have leaves moving like a slow, love-making dance that captures your ears in a way that leaves you sad as it passes past you, yet longing for more. You feel the heat from the sun warming your skin like a sweet love that makes you inwardly smile.
While the moment was as sweet and beautiful as one could hope, once it has passed, it leaves you reliving the memory, but it is never quite the same. The passion is lessened, and the joyous moment is nice but closer to mediocre. It is the same with writing. I often hope to be by my computer when the things I would love to write about approach me, but it never seems to work out quite right.
When I was younger, my aunt always rested on her porch swing. There was no question that this was her solace-the place that brought her heart peace whether the day was calm or chaotic. In her hands would always be a book; if it wasn’t in her hand, it was never far from sight. It wasn’t the swing swaying in the breeze that brought her peace but rather the combination of the book taking her to another place, escaping to a world that engaged from the power of its words and its elegant ways of writing. Combining the two put her in her element of complete and total peaceful escape.
As you know, my childhood was hard in so many ways. I was not taught how to have that self-peace. While being left out in high school in the cruelest ways by my peers, I decided to see if I could go to the places my aunt did. Would I ever find solace in my mind and learn to visualize what my life didn’t know? I decided to give it a try, I had nothing but wasteful time on my side already. I picked up my first book, though I am not sure where I got it; it was a Nora Roberts book. In hindsight, I think Nora Roberts sat on my aunt’s bookshelf as well. It was hard to get into at first, like most things when we try to adopt a new habit. I enjoyed it quite a bit.
I didn’t start as an avid reader, but as I saw my family’s passion for reading grow, I decided to try again. I loved it. I hate to admit that during life’s difficulties, I stopped reading entirely; around 2009 or 2010, I started once more. I remember having books upon books, and I could not read enough! The places I could travel while in these books were astounding, but when I could feel the character’s emotions, that was fascinating! I learned about different forms of passion, how people expressed themselves, and how correctly and elaborating expressing your words could change your mindset as well as the way one communicated.
I love to write because that is how I can express myself in a way that my words never seem to say. I can describe how I see and feel things with writing rather than fumbling and faltering. I see and understand things by how I feel; writing is the best way to express that. I learn by reading. Words hold so much power; having that power within my fingers is a feeling of elation and happiness. I hope that when others read the things that I write, they can step into my world for just a moment and feel what my writing expresses. ❤
Perfectly Imperfect 
Express Yourself!