The truth behind the silence

So… I’m aware that I haven’t blogged in,  well 'a minute' would be a gross understatement- so I’ll just leave ellipsis dots and let you do the math.

And I thought I had succeeded from mulling over that fact until an acquaintance questioned it’, and to which I retorted ; “well my mind’s frozen into a paralyzed lump, so…”

Such garbage! Made my conscience cringe! Sometimes I worry about myself, really. Anyway, here it is, the truth behind it all:

I keep a diary.

Go on, have a good laugh- I always do.

Yes, acquaintance- I lied. My mind's not frozen into a paralyzed lump, NO! It hasn’t shriveled into a tiny ball, it still is what it's always been- whatever it has been. I have been writing, but there are pieces that I feel like I need to save your eyes and mind from.

“Then why write if you’re not willing to share?” I can hear that!

Well, sometimes there are words that, try as you may to keep them inside on some pretext and in attempt to see if they can perceptibly cool off, they just rattle into view.

Try as you may to wrench yourself away from the 'need'- you're pinned to it!

And so, helplessly, you give in- and like an idiot, you find yourself dancing to their rhythm, drowning yourself as you try to analyze the art swarming through the mind. And seemingly never in the mood for elucidation!

So kick me for being so powerless to fight the delighted sigh that escapes through the fingers- plucking my being, and leaving words beautifully strung together with gravelly delight.

Call me silly, a coward, but this pink thing right here is like a gull soaring in the wind. It's my therapy and in it, I'm reborn!