no words

There are thoughts and ideas I have that only come out if I look away from the computer as I type. I put my face down on my knee (my knee is bent up, with my foot on my chair. I rest my face on my knee using my pursed lips as a cushion). I wonder if my fingers are in the right place on the keyboard. I listen to the very fast rattling tap tap tappidy tap of my fingers. I look up occasionally to see if I spelled words like “occasionally” correctly (I hadn’t). My fingers keep moving. I’m not even sure what I’m typing because the thoughts are moving through my fingers almost before I know what I’ve thought.

I looked up at the screen and I typed and typed and wrote a thoughtful piece here, maybe 1k words, about the restrictions that come when I consider my readers’ responses on many different levels. It was a good piece. It was interesting. It addressed some timely and thoughtful issues.

It was bullshit, though. It was me trying to stay away from the face-squashed-into-my-knee kind of writing I wanted to do. I’m not letting myself do it. I’m not letting myself because I’m not able to.

The word paintings I want to share aren’t here. I can’t afford to let them out.

I’m not sure this blog is the right space for the writing I need to do.

Everything I type isn’t what I want to be need to be writing. As much as I can write and write and write I still really mostly truly deeply have no words.

4 thoughts on “no words

  1. Hmm, interesting. I write best and most authentically when I think people will read it. When I’m just ranting into a “diary,” it’s total crap. I feel like it would be such a disservice to my peeps to be fake… though of course if I can’t say something publicly I won’t broach the topic at all. That’s OK. And I like to watch the words on the page. Words beget words… they help me think.

  2. That’s part of the trouble. Writing when I know no one will read it falls flat now that I’ve experienced sharing my writing. Writing on a private blog or anonymously both don’t work for me, though. I don’t know. I tried out writing a “regular” (the update) and an “alternative” (this one) and maybe I’ll just do both here. We’ll see.

  3. I am in a similar position and no words aptly describes how I’m feeling. I have tried to write about it and tried to talk about it and what I have is nothing but a burning DESIRE to talk about it but an inability to do it at all. I’m not scared really, I just feel like it shouldn’t matter or people will tell me “duh” and I’ll feel stupid about it. So I keep thinking about it. And it’s just hard to let it live in my head.

    • It’s a similar set of reasons, I think, that we aren’t writing about it. Fear, yes?

      I’m doing little nibbles (the pink gingham dress was a tester in many respects)…

      I’m so happy to “see” you here! :-)

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