I started writing because I was going through things that I did not know how to express. Somehow, though, when I put my pen to the paper I was suddenly articulate. Something about writing for an audience made me remember that I wasn’t alone in my suffering. Something about writing for an audience made it all worth it.
I didn’t want anybody to know there was a problem, but the only way to deal with the problem was to tell somebody. When I started writing, it forced me to find the lesson. When I found the lesson, it made the pain make sense. Sorta…
So I write to expose the wound
To clean the wound
To let it breathe
So it doesn’t get infected
and cause unnecessary sickness
So that I can remember that I’m not
the only one in this
And I get to look back and see
That I’ve been through this before a time or two or three
And just like I learned before,
This isn’t the end of me.