03.07.16
Dear July,
How exactly does one begin such a letter?
Thoughts run through my mind like grains of sand slip through my fingers and in the meantime I'm left with an empty page.
Perhaps this is a good place to begin-my fears.
One of my biggest fears is quite possibly a blank page. There is just something so daunting, so overwhelming about the great expanse of nothing-ness that haunts me. I must fill up this silence with words and colours, with memories and questions. I must give it some form of life, because to be not yet living is a very terrible fate. And so I pour myself into this art in order to turn the blank and empty pages into beautiful stories of hope and triumph, loneliness and loss, love and redemption. Yet something is always lacking, because these are only a diluted reflection of the truth. Memories can never truly encapsulate the whole of a being, and human life certainly cannot be contained on a mere page.
What else do I fear? I fear vulnerability. That people might see me as I truly am, and use this to hurt me scares me entirely.
So how exactly does one begin such a letter as this?
One begins with shaking hands, a fluttering stomach, a doubtful mind and a mug of hot chocolate.
One begins by simply starting. If not at the beginning, then in the middle. Memories do not adhere to a strict, linear timeline, and neither should our thoughts. They should come naturally, not forcefully.
Do you wish to know who I am July? Then you shall learn it for yourself eventually, in fleeting glimpses and in pondering thoughts.
Until Tomorrow,
E xx
YOU ARE READING
Dear July
Non-FictionA poem? A letter? A time capsual? This project is somehwere in between. Inside you'll find the somewhat crytpic but mostly honest musings of a writer, artist and coffee adict. -- These letters are part of a long-term time-capsual project and are u...
