I have come to the realisation that without the ability to write, I would surely cease to function.Alright, perhaps not such a dramatic thing would occur.
But as I sit on my bed on a Saturday night, contemplating the world - people, the future, the past and present, I find myself understanding the truest aspect of my own nature - I NEED to write to live.
When my pen touches the paper, or when my fingers find the keyboard, I am home.
I find greater clarity being able to express what is truly inside of me, even if it does not come out as eloquently as I would like.
The moment I detail a thought, or outline an idea, a little rush flows through me. It is as if I have expelled an entity of creative energy. I feel relief. Often I exhale at the sheer magnitude of thought that comes out. It has been bottled so tightly within the walls of my skull that without releasing it, my head might implode.
Truly, it is something of a creative passion, this desire to write constantly. Every minute of the day, every second that ticks by, I feel the urge to write. It moves through me like a current; and after electrifying my soul, it finds an exit point through my fingertips.
I am restless without an anecdote or a muse that might describe my day. I yearn to see more so that I can write more. It is never-ending; even as my head hits the pillow of a night, I toss and turn because my thoughts won't quieten. Every moment they scream to be heard, they envelop my being even as I lay in the darkness.
I only find rest when I exhaust my thoughts on paper.
If I write, the stream of insanity in my mind becomes coherent. At times I wonder if I am mentally ill, the thoughts are so great.
Once, I wondered what it would be like to graft your own imaginary person. To actually believe a person into being - would it be possible? Could you create a separate personality to your own, just by trying to? It seems there is no limit to where my thought processes can go - where they desire to go, they will go.
As I finish this, I feel relief. For the moment, the thoughts are appeased. They have been written, now more are free to build.
"Until tomorrow then" I say to the thoughts that will never end.
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