I haven't written in a while, as anyone could notice. It's seven minutes until Christmas Day, but I don't really mind.
See, writing has sort of... fallen away in my life. I'm writing in my journal and expressing my feelings, but I don't like sharing those feelings with anyone outside the written page. Maybe I've become afraid. Afraid of what other people think and afraid of all the things in my head.
I feel like I've explained this a thousand times.
Writting for me has always originated in one place in my mind. Where emotions are concentrated and more vivid then they're normally felt. Because emotions are tainted, so is that place. I don't really know how else to explain it other than to say, I don't like it there.
I've ignored my writing for over a year now. I'm trying to see things as they really are, not as that dark space would have me think.
But I think some day I'll be able to come back to it, because really writing is only as dark as I make it to be. Somehow I'll learn to rid it of darkness, of the shadow. I think I have already, I just don't know how to write from it anymore, it's all new and shiny and bright and I'm just not sure what I'm supposed to do with positivity.
How do you tell the world that everything is alright in the end and that all they need is faith, hope, and charity?
I guess the only thing to do is write a story of hardship and self discovery and hope and faith.
I guess the only thing to do is write my own story..... with a few embellishments of course....
She stood on the mountain and could hardly believe what she had done. The years behind her, they were nothing compared to the years ahead. But this time she would be ready. There would be no hesitation, no backing down. As the edge of the mountain beckoned her heart sped, beating her ribcage, a poor trapped bird dying for release. Though her mind tried to shuck off the notion she stared bravely at the void. No. This was going to happen. She was going to jump. No stopping now.
So.
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She J
