On the bus. At lunch. During a boring meeting. Squeeze the words out when and where you can.
Like a breast full of milk that becomes stiff if the baby doesn’t nurse, so do we become stiff and immovable if we do not write. Words can bind us up if we don’t get them out. But it’s not easy. It’s not just sit down and write. Who has time to leisurely sit anymore?
Maybe my rage comes from unexpressed ideas and thoughts that are trapped. It’s a fight. Constantly chasing or being chased. Running as fast as you can but not fast enough.
I have big dreams for all my words. And so many ideas I feel full and afraid. Afraid because I don’t know how I can possibly keep up with their constant berating influx.
It feels good to get them out. On my phone. In an email. In a text with a friend who knows what it’s like. The expression of insane and unusual thoughts.
I wish I could capture every crazy thing I’ve ever said in any way to anyone in one place and encapsulate it in a clear preservative to protect it from the world forever. Maybe that’s what my soul would be.
