Well this sucks. I’m really really antsy writing thoughts that pass on through, and I don’t know where to place them any more.
I’ve written several out and then deleted; a bit too personal for my classroom journal, but then I’ve vowed to not undress here any more. Just for bandwidth I’ve eliminated other weblogs; it would be rare that I would enter there at all. but something’s welling up inside–I’ve felt it since mid week, but where to put it, where to hide it and even now I’m sounding a bit unbalanced to myself.
It seems that when I’m given the permission to be free, the duty via writing courses that I probably take for just this reason, the stranger things come racing to the forefront; the mellow childhood memories trampled by their hooves.
Or maybe it’s just the caffeine, nicotine and chocolate.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
sometimes, yes … sometimes, we have to stay silent, even as the words threaten to spill over
but when the words will not be denied, then it is time to simply listen