WRITING IS ME
Writing is therapy for the soul; the pen takes it all away. It’s a freedom to bring it in, to take it out – it all goes away till I read it again. Writing gives hope where none was seen before – a joy. The pen a wand, the ink the magic solution; it can all go away with a few flicks of the fingers. If only life were as easy as writing; the joy of reliving everything to put it all away. To take the feelings and flatten them out, spread them around, give them away or keep them locked away in a safe forever.
Writing is a wonder, a joy to feel everything that I put down, true or even made up – to feel, not hide it all inside. It all comes out eventually to share… or keep... is up to me. The paper will burn or save for years to come. I want to write about the good times; they just don’t seem to come like the others do, so I get it out and save it away. I keep it for myself. Some I share. Most I keep.
When I die, share my life. For now this is mine; my pain, my joy, my release. I give this to me. I want to write about me. This is me, myself. This is my life that I give to me. I keep it for myself to give as I please. My soul I write because I am good at what I do. I make good work. I want to write about me. My children are me. My home is me. My mate is me. I want to write about me, by me, for me and to me just for the sake of me and mine. This is me. Take me or leave me but this is me.
Sondra Sheiblich January 8th 2007