I have the compulsion to write...I can feel it coursing through me, my fingers twitch over the keys...but no words form that seem suitable enough to write out...still that feeling persists. I'm feeling very philosophical today, reflective. It happens sometimes. You reflect back to a time distant from the present...or perhaps not so distant...ponder on things past and just...reflect.
Perhaps this is so (today anyway) because a friend of mine and I decided we're going to correspond through old fashion letter writing...something more personal than electronic communication...and I mentioned several wonderful filled times we've had. I miss those days.
Not to say I'm not happy where I am...I'm right where I'm supposed to be...but there are certain times when the troubles of childhood recede back like a falling tide and nothing else in the world exists but that moment. When the brokenly non-innocence of life breaks way for those small bouts of innocence and laughter to reign over the darkness that seems to creep and smother out all else.
But the darkness of childhood has been filed away in a box in a memory storage unit in the back of my mind. Sometimes the box falls off the shelf and scatters all over the cutting-room floor waiting for me to stumble back upon these memories...forcing me to pick them up and stash them away again.
The way it goes sometimes. Sometimes you have to face your past. Sometimes they throw a party and you have to shut it down...hard as it is to get the loudness from your mind before you go completely crazy...that's when you end up in a corner rocking back and forth in the dark of the night; fighting desperately just to make the voices stop. For silence in your head. For the shouting to quiet long enough to form a coherent though.
Different now. Different. Not the same as it used to be.
The world is much brighter now. The world is much quieter now. And I...I feel like I can breathe now.
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