I don’t want to write any words
…when I’m on the downward side of this spiral, when I’m looking through a window that’s fogged over as if a cloud dropped and settled right there, right in my line of vision. I squint and I screw my face and I narrow my eyes and I try to wipe away the fog but it goes no where. It stays… blocking my view, obscuring my words. Coiling around the flow of courage, so tight. So tight it coils, trying to scare it off. So, I don’t want to write any words when this spiral is going down.
I don’t want to write any words
…that you’ll see and read and shake your head because you knew all along. You knew nothing good would ever come of that shitty first draft so you threw it away, there was nothing more to say.
But I crept in when you weren’t looking and I rummaged through your discarded waste and I pulled the words from the bottom of that barrel and I walked away. I walked away knowing I could revise this whole story, knowing I had far more control and far more ability to tell this story than any other person, even you. So, I don’t want to write any words that you’ll see.
I don’t want to write any words
… you’ll just read them and then you’ll talk about them and then a joke will be made and a smirk will be seen and an eyebrow will raise and high fives will be collected and I’ll find myself on the outside of the circle looking through you. But behind the look will be the thought. You’ll think about all the things that could be done from now on because we know we can’t ever go back and undo that tangled feeling that lodged itself in your gut every time I tried and — how — I — tried. No matter how many times I tell you about the better days all you’ll see is how clearly I look when I’m weak. So, I don’t want to write any words that you might read.
I don’t want to write any words
… but waiting is pointless. This feeling is hit and miss, maybe now maybe later. I’ll sit down and I’ll type the words and I’ll not want to but I will because in spite of all the shouldn’ts I’ve racked up, in spite of all the stupid button pressing, in spite of all the reasons I have to hide my face and tuck my tail and bury my body in the deepest cave… I’ll write these words because I can. I can. I can make you think and make you see and make you question every decision you made. I can. So, I don’t want to write any words when I should wait.
I don’t want to write any words
… but if I don’t they’ll just explode in the space of grayness that surrounds and knock me off my wobbly perch. Those words will keep pouring out of me in a steady flow of memories, moving so fast I can’t slow them down… no control. The mystery I keep trying to solve is me and these words are the only clues I have and each time I try to peek inside your world to see if any parts of me are there, you slap the curiosity so hard… so hard. So hard you slap but the curiosity just grows, it doesn’t stop. It doesn’t slow down. So, I don’t want to write any words that might explode in my face
— but they need me to…
So, I will.
First Pages 