it's been a long time since i have journaled. it has been too long since i have been honest enough with myself to be able to write something down on paper. once it has been written...it's there. you can't backspace, delete, or edit. the reality of that scares me. it scares me to be honest once again, nothing good has ever come from that for me.
i'm at a crossroads - i am alone, indecisive, insecure, and afraid. i want to shout and i want to speak my truths when all i crave for is safety and a sense of peace, and love..but mostly, safety.
(and speaking my truth will bring me none of those things)
so i stand at this crossroad, like a lifeless human - one that breathes and whose heart still beats, but that's it. i don't speak. i don't move. i don't feel. i am numb. i simply stand.
i wait. i don't know what i am waiting for....
a sign? a push? a person? a feeling?
i remember all the journals that i collected before i came to this crossroad, for the perceived sense of protection. i carried them with me on this journey. however empty, in my mind they were filled with words.
i sit down, something tells me that it is time
now, that it's finally time to let my hair down and pour myself to and fill these books, that it is time to take this pen and let it bleed into these pages.
