Somewhere along the line, I lost myself. I lost the music, the art, the words – oh, the words! I never would have thought. Me. No imagination. No creativity. No inspiration.
There must be something terribly wrong. This is just not the way I am. This is just not me.
My life has changed – I have changed. What’s more, it’s not for the better. Life, age, responsibility, money – the fighting, the loving, the fighting. Oh, the fighting.
The hatred, the words, the hate – where does it come from? What have I become? Moreover, what has become of me? With all I have been, where have I gone?
Who am I?
I am in need.
His breath, like a whisper in my ear, speaks multitudes. His story spills as from a fresh wound and puddles on the floor before us. I dip my toes in to test the waters. A beautifully uncomfortable sensation overtakes me, and, for a moment, my breath catches in my throat. ..
I live life by a Soundtrack. Music lends itself to any situation. Whether it be in regards to creativity, productivity, or even your emotional state, music is always there to stimulate and bring to life ideas.
Reading Your Writing Lady‘s post “Should You Listen to Music While Writing?” brought this idea to the forefront. Whether music is a helpful base or a harmful distraction to your endeavors – well, that’s really dependent on the type of person and the type of music.
I found a secret place
where it’s easy to rewind;
I found a secret space
where I can clear my mind —
In the back of my apartment building, there’s a laundry room. Its stark white cement and cold, sterile tile (I use the term “sterile” lightly as it’s really in need of a good scrubbing) soak in blue light from the large window and sliding glass doors that make up the back wall.
To a fault, I am honest. In my day to day interactions, making acquaintances, being normal, this does me a disservice. Not to say that I am rude, but I do have a hard time letting my lips be friends.
Well, my friends, there is one situation where this aspect of my character actually behooves me:
when pulled over
by the police —
Today I woke up and wanted to be a lawyer. Okay, so, no, I don’t really want to be a lawyer. It’s something I’ve considered all my life, something I’ve been told I’d be good at for as long as I can remember – it probably has something to do with my penchant to argue things into the ground. My earliest recollection is from lower-school defending a classmate’s liberty to wear a school-monikered sweatshirt during gym class when the PE teacher was trying to force her to take it back. The teacher got snarky with me, and I will always remember her words:
Take it up with me
when you’re in Georgetown law —