A different kind of post tonight….
I often read other’s work and wonder how they were able to express their inner pain and struggles, their passions and regrets, their fears and anxieties in a way that bears their soul. I call it writing naked.
Not literally of course… well maybe some do, but I mean it in a proverbial sense. I mean it because I dream of writing in this capacity.
It’s scary. Laying oneself out bare and open. Do we ever really write what we think? Do we bare our inner soul’s minds deepest, darkest thoughts?
Our hates. Our loves. Our fears. Our tempest soul?
I think I worry too much what people will think of me. Although for the most part I don’t really care what people think of me. Oxymoron???
The dirt is clean.
The dirt of the mind… is it clean?
The dark side of the moon… or the mind?
Writing naked. We are self-protecting creatures by nature. Whether it be our ego that steps up and screams, “NO YOU DON’T!”
Writing naked. We are self-preserving creatures by nature. Our mind won’t let us open that door to the heart.
Writing naked. We are self-fulfilling creatures by nature. We can make what we believe happen if we believe it hard enough.
That high, secure wall will not come down!
The tempest of the mind is screaming. The mistakes. The anguish. The tears that have soiled the bed.
What is writing naked really?
What does it matter when the chances of someone reading it is slim to none?