My Words and I……

I was reading an article, something about “15 things every writer knows” Calling myself a writer in the first place is…new, I don’t do it often judging as I treat my blog as a top secret anyway, feeling like one day one of these boys might get here and realize they are coded inside here but it is about them. Okay, I was reading this article, and one struck my eye:

At times, feelings form words and build up inside of us and the only way to get them out is to spill it all on paper. Sometimes I think the only reason people write is to make themselves feel human again. To see the unseen reality physically. To sort through the trenches of their minds.

Here is the link to the entire article:…

So, this article spoke volumes to me. Here is the thing, the slogan to my blog, should I say slogan, it is something like “In words I find meaning”. So the last article I posted, the story to how it came to be will be narrated in a while. Let’s start from a stretch, I got a new follow, my blog got a new follower. Cristian Mihai here is a link to their blogging as well . Trust me I did not get paid to put adverts today; I am just trying to build up something, a story. So the first thing I do when I get a new follower or a like from a blogger, I check their link see what they are all about. They normally are doing a whole lot better than me…so I read his latest article, and he says something like:

Find the thing you are afraid of the most, rummage through your brain until it hurts, and write about it”

This was an answer he gave to people who ask about how to write a good story.

Now I am back to me, and how these two lines combine right. Well you see how they do and if you read my last article you will probably wonder if I am going to talk about death, because I said the answer to what scares me most is death, no…I won’t.

I am rarely emotional, not that I do not have feelings, I just have the compartmentalized, which is a rare thing in women, you have to agree, and I can block things out. Talents that have been accumulated over years of practice, I was never this good, I practically used to cry over anything…the only bad thing about letting that go is I get angry too much. Now let’s go…last week, last Saturday night, I had one hell of a night. I got home around 4am took the laptop out and started to write, about the night, about…inspiration comes from crevices unknown and well I had a break and I was spilling it. I was a bit of a mess at that hour, with a bad headache out of too much whisky combined with the glare of the screen; I put it all away and had a goodnight sleep. I picked it up the next evening, but it had lost the zeal. I think I got sober and realized I couldn’t pour all that here, I just couldn’t. It’s like those people who run to the bathroom and cry their hearts out and then look at themselves in the mirror and say no more tears, it’s going to be okay, put a smile on wipe the tears out and walk out…Wait, I do that too…the more I write this the more I feel like I need help somewhere.

When I have a bad day I don’t show it, I maybe try and talk to someone but then their response would put me off then I would pretend I was talking about something else. I feel like I am rambling. All in all when I read through my article I just felt like it won’t be okay to put it there. So I looked for someone, we call each other twinnies, we realized we are so much alike, and therefore, yes…so I told him half of it but then he gave the response I thought twice about. I immediately went on to something else. Worked as always, one part of my article said I want to be able to tell someone I want to talk and they would just listen, and not even try and give me advice. That is what I do, I listen until someone asks for my advice or when they don’t I ask if they want any…if they don’t I can make a bad joke and we laugh about it but that’s it. So when I tell someone something eating me up and they go on to say how bad or good it is…I feel like I can throw something at them and so for good relations I push it down the throat and pretend. Then I write it in my pink journal.

Here is the thing, I wrote whatever I wrote, I read it but I changed my article choices at the last minute. I kept the article though and I read through it…but simply writing it down helped me figure things out. That is why I write, it used to be on a journal, and I did not have to filter a few things…when I went back to read what I wrote I had a laugh; the truth is at that very moment it is what I felt. It helped me get through a bad day, a bad second. I am not destined to feel how I felt at that moment but it changed something in me, my writing is my therapy. So when someone wonders how I have it perfectly compartmentalized, it is not me being aloof, it is just that something else works for me.

At the end of the day, I am can live a good story, I can write a good story…but to be a good writer is to be able to do both. So what scares me most, to come here and put it all out on paper, it is not a place I can get.

Which goes to the 2nd part of this article, In words I find meaning. I was bored at home today, this afternoon and the sun was out for a bit, so I took a mat lay it on the ground, out my earphones on and set a playlist. Music is my escape to a perfect world. I get music, I love music and once upon a time I told someone to date me, you have to get that about me. You have to get music and my music in specific not the club banging riddims. Would I listen to riddims, yes, I do not mind but I not love them as such. My taste in music does not make me better so I try not to diss guys just because they love some nude ass….but I judge them hahahahah. Well he said it’s a lie, I have a few theories why. You were wrong, making it sound like it is just decadence…it is not. It is a certain romance…a certain honesty in the music…an inspiration and hope for something better, when human beings pick a few words and piece them together and accompany them with basic instruments and I feel like they are telling my story. So you were wrong about that…because I find a getaway in words…in articles, in music and they make sense of my world.

P.S. I am skeptical about people doing covers to music but this cover actually made me love the original song


2 thoughts on “My Words and I……

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