Back to my roots

I remember.

I used to write. I used to feel with such passion, it was all I could do to keep from exploding. I wrote to express myself, in ways I couldn’t find anywhere else. I wrote to ease the pressure of all the feelings built up inside of me.

I wrote with abandon; the words came easily, flowed through me as if they were another part of me. My fingers couldn’t move fast enough to get the words out; words that I became overly attached to, so much so that once I’d written them, I was reluctant to share them. They were mine. It was like my heart was sitting there on the paper for all to see.

I wrote with such a fever that much of what I wrote then I don’t remember writing now.

I wanna fall. I wanna jump and fly and drive and run and crash and burn. I wanna be brave, courageous, willing and ready. I wanna believe. And I don’t wanna talk about it.

A lot of it, despite my forgetfulness, still holds true; some of it has even come true.

I’ve fallen. I jumped and flew, crashed and burned. But I’ve gotten up, dusted myself off and continued on, bravely, into the unknown. And I think that’s the most important part, because the truth is, we’re all gonna crash and burn at some point, if you’re doing it right. The key is getting back up on that horse.

Photo: Martin LaBar

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