12/31/11 2:56 pm
I got the most amazing compliment today:
“I just wanted to say that I love your writing. I admire the imagery and honesty in what you write and it is something that I aspire to do in my own writing. I just find it comforting that I can read such an honest take on a day to day life and still feel like I am reading a novel or fictional narrative. Thank you for making me think about my own life when I read about yours. Never ever stop writing, else I shall have one less comforting element to appreciate.”
I haven’t written much or shared my writing in a LONG time and this week it just started pouring out. It’s like pressured speech only in thoughts and they don’t come out my mouth.
People tell me I write like a story. It’s just what I hear. And what I hear corrects itself if it doesn’t sound right. Different moods have a separate cadence and on days like today they just flow. It’s like a rainstorm from a clear sky. As I get more out there everything rhymes and be comes poetry. And then it just stops. Close the book and wait.
I used to write letters. Everything has a story. I listen. Just listen. You might hear writing too.
When I write, it’s like having someone to talk to. Someone who doesn’t talk back or argue, who doesn’t judge, who just listens and nods. I have a therapist and a few friends to talk to now but I didn’t used to, and I would write. And write and write and write. Letters to people who never wrote back. And as painful as it was that they never wrote back, it allowed me to just be free. I still write as if I’m talking to them. As if someone kind is intently listening. When I am angry they are angry too and when I am sad they comfort me. All in my head, and on the page.
For a long time I couldn’t really communicate in spoken word. Not that I couldn’t talk. I was just terrified to share my feelings and to speak honestly. And for good cause. I couldn’t even read my writing to the people I wrote to. I was too ashamed. Thankfully, Cog cured me of that. It’s still hard to read my writing to people or to just come out and say what I’m thinking. But I’m getting pretty good at it. I listen to my thoughts and I hear my writing. The rest is what you see. Thanks for reading.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2011