Pouring My Heart Out

Freedom

As I watch my hand move across my green notebook, I think about what I am going to write and how I am going to write it. Should I write a poem about about how I feel. Should I try and watch as my heart pours out and onto the paper or should I be writing about my perfect little life everyone thinks I have. I will repeat words on to this same page and watch how without even trying my heart and soul are dumped like trash onto the very same paper. I don't know how I am doing it or what it is in my mind that's keeping me from stoping myself as I let everything out. My turquoise pencil moving up and down, side to side, writing the things I didn't even know I could. All of the things I have bottled up all my life just came back like karma.
          I shouldn't be writing all of this or speaking about it, this could effect everything around me and somehow change there views on me. If I were to write about how I felt about myself, what I do to myself every night, how no matter much my wrist hurts I refrain from making any noises. What about how every time I look in the mirror I think to myself "I am not good enough." So what is it that makes me continue to write out what I can't bring myself to share. What is it that makes my pencil move so freely on the note book of my feelings? What is it that keeps me from getting what I desire the most? What can't I think of it? I know it, but I don't know if I really want it because I have gotten so used to the idea  hiding. Of course it can give me a new survival challenge. I guess why not go for my number one desire, why not go for my freedom...