Inspirational, Life

THE POST I’M WRITING FOR MYSELF

It’s 1 am.

I almost considered not writing this post and even now my fingers are trying to click quietly over the keys to avoid making any noise. I’m not succeeding.

I almost considered not writing this but I’m afraid if I don’t capture the motion of these feelings now then I’ll lose them by morning. Because 1 am isn’t cute but sometimes it’s the time for writing.

I don’t think I have ever felt a single emotion singularly. I have never been completely desolate or delirious. Everything is tempered with something to a certain degree. But right now I’m feeling so many emotions strongly that I wonder if it is possible to feel multiple emotions singularly; for them to exist privately in their own moment untempered but not cancel each other out. Can that happen?

Because right now I can’t decide if I am happy or sad and I know that I am both because I want to smile and cry and the balloon in my chest is just full of air and it’s getting fuller and I want to scream to let all of it out but I can’t.

I am sad and relieved and hurt and upset and embarrassed and glad and angry all at the same time and I feel them all like stones dropping into my ocean, plunk plunk plunk one after the other saying “We’re here; we’re with you.”

I am relieved that this thing is over but I can’t let go of the fear that I’ll lose something in letting it go. It was a crutch, a painful one that make my heart crimp, but it helped me walk. Walking alone is scary because I’m as wobbly as a baby giraffe and god knows how those supermodels manage to canter on those knobby knees. Sorry, went on a tangent.

I’m writing this post for me; not for the views or the laughs. I’m using this post as a time capsule. I feel these things and they are filling me up and I want them to. I feel thick with feelings and I don’t want that to go away. I want this moment, of piercing sadness and ringing happiness, to be crystallized and tucked away so that one day when I’m okay with the letting go-ness, I can reread and think about how kaleidoscopic my stained glass soul was at 1 am on March 11.

I’m starting to see this blog for what it could be: not just a professional—okay, laxly professional—way of showcasing my writing style, but also a way of me to express and process and verbalize and hurt and love and think and ramble. Also to use beautifully tangled runaway sentences that barrel on. Because that’s what I want my writing to be: I want it to be the words that describe the pain in your chest; the words that name the breathless, wonderful, wonderfully scary air in your lungs; the words that ring around your choked-up throat. Because that’s what it is for me; it lets me do all those things and more and I’m realizing how precious that is. Because our feelings are like this holy hymn and I want them to exist in a place that allows them to exist singularly together.

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