September 27, 2018
Day 729
Oh, I am longing so for fall. I am waiting for the moment when I step out of my house, and feel the welcome and gentle caress of cold air on my skin. Breathing cold air makes me feel alive. It makes me feel robust and full of life and jolly. It reminds me that Tobin's birthday is on it's way. And Thanksgiving. And Christmas. I have been waiting for many months, and the waiting will soon be over.
Tonight, I am thankful for this space. This safe space in which to write the things that I am thankful for. This place in which to record the daily happenings of my life. For most of my life, I have always wanted to write and publish a book. And lately, that want has shifted. I'm not sure I want to anymore. Here's why: if I write and publish a book, I might become famous. Or at least my name will be known. If my name becomes known to people, and they read my words, and they don't like them, they will judge me. They will form opinions about who I am. And what I write. And what I think. And they will ask me questions to which they will want immediate answers and then form opinions about those answers. Nothing will be just for me anymore. It will be for them.
I'm feeling tonight like maybe I want to keep my words close and cozy and at home with me. I'm not sure if or when that feeling might shift again, but writing words just for me has always been why I write.
Tonight, I am thankful that I can write just for me. Tonight, I am thankful that I can wrap my words up in a big sweater and some blankets and put some socks on them and keep them warm and safe and cozy and home. I'll be waiting for a shift. If it happens, okay. If it doesn't happen, okay. Whatever happens, I'll be okay. But in the meantime, my words are wearing fluffy slippers and hanging at home with me. And that's okay.
No comments:
Post a Comment