One of the first things I learned after my first blog post was how absolutely liberating writing actually is. Everything and anything that you keep bottled up, that weights on your shoulders like a pack mule, you can release. Writing is both an art form and an escape. It is freedom and it is beauty. But sometimes I sit here at the keyboard and think “Should I even be writing?”
What if I don’t know what I feel? How can I put into words something I can’t describe? Pain is easy, suffering and sorrow. Happiness can be conveyed with a smile and a poem, and sadness with a song. But what about the absence of all of those? How does someone write about the void?
I feel like every person has a threshold of emotional overload. We can only all bear so much before our brain stops understanding how to process it all. When we get bombarded with hardships, good news, bad news, and changes to our life of every kind, all at once, something happens. Its like an old TV turning off after a screen of white noise. The white noise just gets thicker and louder and then all of a sudden, it just shrinks to black, a white dot in the center of the screen disappearing in a flash. All the noise is gone, but so is everything else.
I feel like I’ve reached that flash, and my screen has gone black. I have felt so much in such as short time that I now feel…I don’t know. I feel like I don’t feel enough. And how do I write about not knowing how I feel? How do I free myself through this vehicle if I can’t define the very thing I wish to be free from?
Maybe I’ll just write a book. Just to write. Or not to write.