I can’t find my journal
Can’t find my vehicle for getting words to ink
So this will have to suffice
But see how even on screen I skip to the next line
Expecting the page to end
To meet the edge
What does that say?
That tapping and typing will do in a pinch
But I breathe words to life on blue and parchment
rather than blinking black on indifferent white light
There is a lot that I want today
I want to learn to be stronger
I want to do the hard things that will make me better
I want to stop hesitating
I want to burn bright in actions not just words
I wish I could write my future the way I write the lives of
my characters
I want to live poetry so I don’t have to write it.
This is not a poem.
Sometimes I feel as though I am living in a whirlwind.
But the wind is stirred by everyone else but me
You are joining your lives with others
You are creating new lives
I am moving slowly while you all orbit around me
I could step into the circle, but I hesitate every time I
see an opening
No, not yet.
Next time.
Maybe.
The only wrong choice is to not choose.
I can put the words in ink on my skin
I can say them in the mirror to myself
I can write them to you.
But it’s easier to find excuses to put them off
And go search for a lost object instead.
