My tongue is in my hand…

Posted on: February 2, 2010

Sometimes I feel like I am adrift out here, maybe even more so than back when I was sitting on my floor, leaning against my bed, staring at myself in floor length mirror of my closet door reading poem after poem to myself. I used to think that was where I isolated. I just knew that one day my words would reach ears, eyes, other than mine. And I just knew it would be different when that happened. So now, I have what you could is an imaginably large opportunity for audience. But now, I feel adrift, I think I’ve thrown my words out so quickly to be available that I haven’t spent as much time with them. I haven’t held them in my hands, I haven’t spoke them out loud to myself. I have wanted them to do something all around me, and in turn, I have waited hungrily and impatiently, so easily discouraged, completely insatiable, and feeling so much more adrift because I kept waiting for someone, for lots of someones, to anchor to me, to my words…when before, I anchored my words. I dreamed of them mattering beyond me, but that they mattered to me was enough. I don’t think I’ve been spending enough time with my words. I spend a good amount of time throwing them out and waiting, wanting…but not enough time just me and my words, loving them…I’m not completely sure how to remedy this.

Blogging is so much better for me in regards to organization. I guess it’s more that I need to adjust how I approach it all…not that I spend a lot of time networking for people to read me, but I have a little nagging thing inside that…just messes with me…I have no need to make this private…I only know of maybe 3 people who read it regularly, and I like just being out there. I know I just contradicted myself….I like being out there, I don’t like waiting out there…so I have to stop waiting and just enjoy being…


1 Response to ""

I think you’re just kinda worried about it spiraling out of control into a crazed paparazzi-driven stalk-fest.

I’m your biggest fan. Sign my face. I will never wash my face. Ever.

šŸ˜› I think sometimes it’s comforting to know that what you’re going through, thoughts that you have, and the ways that you express them are understood by other people. Even if there’s no empathy it’s a reassurance that you’re reasonable, you’re not crazy and your thoughts, expression, and poetry are grounded in something real.

You’re awesome bex. My darned fanmail is in the post so it should be there, hopefully soon. šŸ™‚

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