There were times in New York City when I knew I was destined to be a writer. But those times were painful comedy. Funny to those reading about it, but when it is happening to me it hurts like hell.
Even as I was stumbling along making mistakes that would end up causing mountains of pain, I knew it was all going to be written about. To be able to understand it's place in history was an undeniable fact.
There were times when I would purposely make decisions that would enhance my life in order to fit it all into literary history. Making my life a better read by the outrageous choices I was making on a daily basis. All in the name of poetry and the unrequited mystery of love.
Intimacy is not always about sex. Writing is not always about poetry. Sometimes writing is the only way to know you are really alive. As if we are all ghost writing our spirit for a greater understanding of humanity and our lives on planet Earth.
Everyday with the one you love is intimate. It is only love that makes us breath and makes us work. Loves makes us believe in things bigger than the limitations we face in our bodies. I write for these reasons. I write to take away the pain. Nothing is as good as when we are writing together- the history of our lives, the history of our love.
Someday they will know just how I feel. This is why I am a writer. The greatest intimate moment I ever had that makes me the writer I am is the day I realized what I loved in you is what I have in myself.
the end (for now).
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment