anchored in light

A lifestyle blog about finding light in every avenue of life

Friday, October 16, 2015

Writing Journal #3

Before I get to the writing journal entry that I'm sharing for this week, I just wanted to say that I had no idea that BookTubing was a thing. Like for seriously. I hung out with Hatred earlier this week and we were talking about books (like we do) and she was telling me all about it! She recently started her own BookTubing channel and I couldn't believe that me, as a reader, had never even heard of it! Anyone else never heard of it? Because for a long time I was reading about 3 books a week and obviously I should have known, right? 
Anyway, you should check out her channel! She's pretty fantastic :)

Writing Journal #3

I put words on a page. For me. Yes, also for an audience. Ultimately, for me. Because I need to create. To tell everyone what it feels like to sit right here, a breeze from the fans on my arms and legs, the wind in the trees shuddering like water in streams. 

To sit here and know your mom is grilling your little sister for information about your life that you won't tell her. 

Because most of the time I don't know how I feel. I can't spill my guts until I know what they'll look like laid out on the table. Until I know what to spill and what to hold back.

I have a kaleidoscope mind. Every second twisting and creating new patterns.

Decisions are hard. They set pieces, and create moving blocks. I have to like them first. 
I am the "Ideal" child and what if my thoughts aren't good enough? So I clam up. Ponder and coat every idea like a grain of sand. 

Hopefully the end result is a pearl, because mostly it just feels like a rock. Nothing like quartz or even obsidian, just garden variety gray and jagged. 

And people wonder why I have walls? I'm very tender underneath it all.

I'm still thinking about whether she is mad at me or not. I caught the unspoken words and they stuck in my hands like daggers. She probably doesn't even know that she threw them. May not have thrown them. But I'm still bleeding. Maybe I cut myself. Am I a tortured soul? Do I like the torture? Do I want to be a victim just so I can look like a warrior? Because that is true, I want to be a warrior. 



Thanks for reading! As always, let me know what you thought in the comments! And if any of you are writers, I'm curious to know if you wonder those same things, or how you just feel about being a writer :)


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