Its coming back, a dribble at a time. Words that stormed around my empty skull now have the lottery winner’s chance of getting out. But its happening, achingly but its there. Instead of fake high minded words, I am trying to burrow upward. Patience please, almost 2 decades since I took on this tool, and it still feels unwieldy and large in my hands (bombs away sexual inneundos), but atleast I am more awake. The drowsiness of monotony rubbed off a bit, and things that used to take up space now fill my attention. What was now seems more. Helplessness eroded by a wee bit of shiny hope. Illusion beckons from around the corner. I close my eyes, and imagine the wonderful writer. Words that seem carelessly scattered in fact took minutes to create. A hesitation here and there, but I push on.
This self love of word always on my mind. This overly aware mind too quick to pick up my insecurities and flaws, but I cant stop. I must go on, if not for myself but for my legions of imaginary readers. That gives me some comfort. Yet another post about nothing, proud to be the Seinfield of blogging or perhaps just a very lound silent cry for help. You decide or maybe it will be just me as usual. My chariot awaits.