Truth in Text
I’m fascinated by how the letters type across the page as I write, big bold and half calculated.
The other half? I have a love affair with words, I’m cheating on myself. You see, I’m in a relationship with myself. I learned that not too long ago.
And I’m learning how to be me. Often I’m fascinated by certain thoughts which are otherworldly and unprovoked by habit. They are from the bellows of my forgotten self, an undiscovered identity that yearns, yet quietly.
I am unique and I am the same as you. Nights I wake with those powerful thoughts. They often urge me to take up my pen. Write. I say to myself.
But I have only listened.
And forgotten.
I know that I am a writer, but have done it so seldom that I’ve had the creeping realization that I am so untrue to a part of who I really am that I have been compromising myself. My lack of focus in a medium which stirs my essence is irresponsible, unforgivable. Nay shall I feel regret for a past I cannot alter, but hearken the day I realize I can change today. No longer am I inactionable.
This is where things get funny. In retrospect, mostly.
So many times I have felt a desire to be a respectable and socially admired web entity. I didn’t really know what that meant. That is really two dreams. For long, the goal of admiration had truly blinded me from following the path to my true desire. I want to be respected but with great sense of humility, not as a savvy web socialite, but as a being who is true to itself, real, unrestricted and uncensored, who has something to offer others as well as myself.
It was so juvenile to think that I had wanted something that I didn’t quite understand, driven simply by ego. I unwittingly sabotaged that path. By not voicing my truth not just in writing, not just in social networks or websites, but in the presence of every moment of my being, on a personal level, with my direct, living environment, I failed that path. Was instead what I thought others wanted to see. Come to realize, it was the best thing I could have done for myself, each thwarting moment at a time, because here I am, ready for my truth. It would have arrived in some capacity or another.
My truth is humility. I just want to be real. I want to break from this shell I have sealed my whole within.
This isn’t just fancy type. This is truth, in kind of a big nutshell.
Just grow with me here.
