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Just want to talk


Hello there. I know, this whole bit is a bit strange. But for once, I just want to shoot from the hip. No free write, no focused topic. Just talk. Admittedly I often feel this way, but keep myself from saying a thing because I don’t have a point of focus. The times I make free writes it usually starts with random thoughts, but I often know where I want to go. Now…it’s kind of like those weird drawings I’ll sometimes do, where I have no idea what I’m making, and the entire point is to trust that something inside me knows what I’m doing. Most of the time it ends up being for little more reason than the joy of being able to do it. 

These days I’m feeling less bound up than I used to, and yet the old habits make it difficult to do this as easily as I’d like. Still, it’s  easier now, and that’s progress I’ll happily take. It’s a weird feeling, knowing that the walls are coming down, I’m more fully inhabiting the life I’ve been given, and the pupating is almost over. I’d always thought I would burst out of my cocoon violently, yet that hasn’t been the case at all. Heh, I shouldn’t be surprised, considering I normally don’t flourish in harsh conditions. I have no idea what form this change is going to take. But for once, I’m more curious than scared. And I am so grateful to feel this way. 

Free writes

Need for willful breathing

Ah. Ha.

Music has me again. I feel the voices, the notes soar. They might as well be tangible things, the way they skate across my skin as a curious insect might. Times like this, and breathing normally isn’t enough. Can I breathe notes in, as I breathe them out when the spirit moves me? This can’t be casually done. Come to me, music. They say we are what we eat. Right now, I want to be what I breathe. In and out. In and out.