It may all start with why’ and I understand you may feel agitated. I been there too. And I sometimes still go there too. But you know what. It’s just a bad chatter. They want you to feel that way. They want you to keep go there and away. But you know what, Is just a bad chatter. Its always clear sky. Wile ‘they’ are just a sad thinking in the sky’
Nothing had happened that warranted what I was feeling. It was a pretty day outside, just came from a run and there wasn’t much to do rather than just go help this humble souls doing their one or two jobs that remained on that day – then back and forth doing same what I most times do ‘beginnings from my day.
I’d spent the night before writing my book and do some traveling. I was home by mid-day and had slept well. My thoughts was in a great mood, making a smoothie of words in my mind and In the same time putting down a list of fare rewards wile keep looking for more words.
But I wasn’t even out of bed yet and I was frustrated at the day when something was about to happen. I leave that for another chapter, wile is just some bad chatter.
When I was a young fella I struggled to pinpoint the root from my fairy candle. All of a sudden, I’d find myself in a terrible mood wile keep waiting for a post man to park his bike, thinking ‘where he could go, where I should go, If letter comes and go away, I could go and never return wile still be forever and come back some day. Or never
And so I went away. Eventually I learned my frustrations stemmed from me not giving enough to myself. Then I bought a large chunk of paper a pen and keep looking further to write my thoughts wile I would often look to other people or certain situations to place words and struggles to pinpoint the root of my stories on them.
When I left my old man home and made it in the unlimited world, the first thing I did was sit down with my piece of paper. I’ve been keeping journals since the beginning of me. Sometimes my first sentence back always echoes the same refrain: “Well, it’s been a while since I journaled.” Oh..I just done it. Well let’s do it again. Make I can just reframe.
There’s a lot of rambling words, a lot of pointing dry fingers and avoiding the self mirror of few words that is constructing my creative me, yet just a few words . And that’s just part of the process, and being okay with accepting that less-than-ideal mirror portrait of yourself or my self or them self is the first step toward self understanding of few words.
A few pages later is when I started to get to the middle of the centre..there where the warm keeps its bread just like when you bite that feeling of sliced and soft bread.
I could hear the tone of my singularity in writing and a shift from angry and alone to a reflective adult, yet still alone.
I started examining the past two words, and how little time I’ve had to myself to search more words. How I’d been traveling my sentences, and traveling some more wile keep looking a few words, and then came back to a crazy word.
How I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been writing to a man searching for his son. How I’d fallen out of practice with no morning meditations but still more practice. How I’d been constantly in output mode wile the output plugs it’s very little time spent on a piece of paper along with a ghost reader reflecting on it’s journaling idea, and yes I finally find my self.
Now I cater to no one or everyone’ s selfish self, instead of taking a minute to take care of a deep breath of air in my myself. I feel significantly better.
It’s just me, a paper, a pen, and a significantly self, only to my growth as a writer, journey as a human being, the entire ocean just shaped to calm.
Life is what I’m really all about, my time.
Here’s my ask.
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