but perhaps I've forgotten how
I used to write with feeling, forgetting what I was writing down
I'd cry on the pages, scour and scold my emotions
My mouth would begin to taste like blood as I focused
I don't have emotions that strong anymore, my thoughts don't run from my mind
Trying everything to jog across the paper, falling and scratching knees, making dents in metaphors
I miss the times I felt resentment, loss and anguish
I miss feeling out of control and uneasy
Turning words into phrases and phrases into scars
I miss not thinking before I acted, where all of who I was, was freely escaping, not encased and enshrined in a forever normal frame of mind.
Sometimes my artist calls out, tells me to grasp onto anything worth creating
I spin intricate language in my mind and let it fall off the spool and tangle until it's no longer a thread pulled tight, but instead a knot, a knot inside my head.
I've spent some time untangling what my life has been up until now. I've spent a lot of time trying to come to terms with who I am. Who I am... Who am I.
At times I feel like a dazzling night sky, a canopy of hope lingering over the world. With shooting stars carrying dreams, and handing them out.
At other times, I feel like the dirt I pound down with my footsteps. Laying low, barely floating in the air, barely known to exist. But still made up of tiny specks of shimmering glass, stone and wood, the things that make life so beautiful.
Lately I've felt defeated, but I'm not sure why. Perhaps it's because I've forced my inner dialogue to hush. To remain still and stagnant, like a pond untouched by jumping frogs, but rather thinly veiled with ice and silence.
But I want to be the early morning, the morning where the sun catches every bit of dew hanging suspended in the just lit sky over green opulent and fertile fields. I want to be a glistening reminder of a new day. I want to be the floating breath on a cool fall morning. I want to spread out into the world. I want to be something worth admiring and worth remembering.
I want to be who I am destined to be, I want to be my potential reflected on the cleanest, newly pressed mirror.
I want to be free from the shambles of my own inflicted doubt.
I want to share what it is to be me. What it is to be free.