Saturday, January 28, 2012

My Story

I am sitting at my husband's computer wondering what I should write about.  Some days the words flow out of my fingertips, some days and even some months, the words don't come.  I open up my archives at times and read what I wrote at different intervals in my life.   I was never one to maintain a consistent diary, but the stories and the poems that I have written over time have painted the picture of my life.

Writing was a lot easier when I was single.  I only had my own story to tell.  I could write anything whether good or painful and it was a testimony to my own life.  Now that I am married, the stories don't come as easy.  I now share life with someone else and I don't always know what to share.  Privacy takes president .  I am not the open book that I used to be.  I value my husband more than my freedom to express myself.

I guess because I used to be such an open book, maybe I fear that my writing may betray those things that are more important to me now.  Even if I were to dive into fiction and write about nothingness, that nothingness would become something.  A writer's best can only come from the heart.

So what do I write about today?

I still don't know.

But tomorrow is always another day.  Maybe tomorrow I will have words to share.  After all Life is a story.  Each minute is a sentence; each day is a paragraph; each year is a chapter.  If my story is not written down on paper, then I shall see to it that it is lived, even if it is not read.  

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