Friday, October 27, 2006

no uncertain

I've always had a hard time understanding people who would read something I'd written and make the comment, "I wish I could write like that."

Partly because I struggle a lot with my writing. Writing a term paper? Fogeddaboutit. I'll spend so much time twisting and turning words and sentences that they simply won't make sense anymore. I'll write a story that doesn't feel like it's flowing and I'll spend ages trying to make them sound right. Eventually I figure out...that the term paper is just supposed to be me talking, not a text book. And the story is its own, living, breathing thing. I'm just to write it down as it is.

I'm not a big talker. It's hard for me to sit down and bust out exactly what's on my mind, exactly how it's in there - verbally. But I realize that for some people, it's just hard. Some people don't even have an outlet for it. They can't put it down in a song, paint it on a canvas, sculpt it out of metal or write it down in ink.

And tonight, I'm very thankful that I can. I've always held on to the fact that writing is something tangible. When I was eighteen, my aunt told me that everyone comes into the world for many reasons - but really only one that matters. I grabbed a notebook and on the top line wrote "Dear you,". It was a journal written to a man I felt I was meant to meet and love. Somewhat adolescent, but then...not. Because I think the bigger meaning in that journal was I felt I was here to just see the things around me, love them, write them down - in no uncertain terms - and give them all to whoever will end up loving me back.

It is comforting to know that the idea of "no uncertain" is at my fingertips. Because so many other things are uncertain. I feel it in the morning, when I wake up to too many things, too many thoughts. When I hear the troubles of friends. When I think about the future.

But how I see it...how I feel it...is in no uncertain terms. And I can give that to anyone. And for whatever reason - it just feels really good right now.

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