10:58 am - Monday, Jun. 29, 2009
Only recently has it dawned on me, the importance that I take these words which I abandoned so long ago, and give them new life. I spent much of college lamenting the loss of my voice. Where words were once my constant companions, was a space filled with academia and too little time. Exploring my hart, allowing my soul to flow, or simply trying too hard because I loved the number of strangers willing to follow my life, all these things went the way of Anthropology papers and learning Italian. As I became more familiar with school, more willing to invest in being a student, I drew myself father from saying what I wanted... needed... to say.
I painted this image once that Chris was my true love, and people invested in it. At one point we had people following us both just to read our passages of love for one another. And then threw it out, chose someone else, betrayed him and you for Kevin. Should I have been surprised when Kevin did the same and slept with my sorority sister? Shouldn't I have realized that it may take time, but the bad you do really does come back around.
However, redemption arrives on the heels of payback. When you are paid back, no one owes you anymore. If in great sorrow and broken heart I couldn't turn back to words, wouldn't truest of love give me that key? I met Nat, my fiancť, and agreed to spend my life with him. And yet that opened nothing in me. If anything, the complacency of happiness and love made me tuck words away deeper in myself, ready to push them out all together. Perhaps it was the lack of drama and lamentation. Perhaps I had truly grown up to be someone less soulful and passionate with the years. Perhaps words would leave me forever.
But I am trying. Iím trying right now to explain the marks left on my heart by words. To let them breeze out of my once again. It may not have the imagery that I, at least once, believed I could invoke, but itís true and itís trying. As Nat and I prepare to move to Seattle for his new job, and leave Oregon behind, hopefully forever, I have found myself throwing almost everything out. Preparation for an apartment thatís smaller by half. In this frenzy to throw away, I have come across my old writing, my old written diaries and reflection pieces. Came across the essay for which I won the gold key, and across the writings I poured out at Fir Acres, and I refuse to allow my love of words to diminish any further. When writing was easy, and the words simply flowed, I never thought of them as a precious resourceówhat they held for me couldnít be depleted. And then the oil well was empty and I must not have needed the resources at the time, because I didnít bother to suck it dry. Now I am returning to those old friends, hoping I can create something where the spirit of my writing once was, and fill it up once again. Turn scarcity into abundance and jump off from here.
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