The Things I Cannot Write About

 

I will to begin by telling you this: I cannot write therefore I am going to write about not being able to write.

I think it happens to all of us who live by words. There are days when our brains refuse to produce publishable pieces. For different reasons.

For me, it is the fact that I cannot write about the things that I am going through lately. Let me rephrase it better: I wrote about them, but they are too personal to be shared, so they will remain somewhere between the covers of my hidden notebooks, the ones meant for my eyes only.

And this puts a lot of pressure on me. I worked hard to revive this blog and I am afraid I will lose it again; it will disappear into the silence that deafened me before. And I don’t want it to happen. I love this tiny corner of the internet where I can come once in a while, sit and ponder on memories, ideas, past events, feelings. And share them with you.

So, you can understand my fear. I don’t want to fade away again, after I found myself anew. I don’t want to abandon this piece of soul of mine that kept me going all these years.

Believe me, I want to come here and shout from the top of my lungs everything I cannot share in writing. But I won’t.

I want to come here and tell you how difficult it is to be me, and complain and cry. Maybe I will. But not today.

Today I feel like all the doors around me are closed and I am trapped in this hollow place, with no light, no windows. Only walls and nothingness.

So, I’ll sit down here, on the cold hard floor. And let all the trapped feelings circle around me like hungry wolves.

And if you want to sit with me for a while, do it. If not, look, there is one door opening. Close it gently behind you.