Swept Away Unwanted

Spirit1313's picture

What happened? When did it happen? How could I miss it? Why did I miss it? Did I know it was going to happen? Probably. Most things are inevitable. Whether I wanted to see it or not, it's too late now.

So many times I came and I tried to write and I couldn't do it. There was something in me that kept me from sharing, that held me back instead of letting me go on and on forever about anything and everything. I wrote religiously in the beginning just let the words flow every single day. Shared things that I never dreamed I would share with so many people.

Now, I can't do that. I won't let myself. I don't feel that need, the drive and the pull to open up and talk about myself and what I fear will happen in the future. I can no longer just sit down and rant on and on about my day and my life and the ins and outs of this place. Something is keeping me from doing it. It's like a wall was built up between me and you.

Or maybe I am wrong. It happens. Maybe I just don't have that need anymore. The need that was there in the beginning that I HAD to share things or I would just give up on trying, on living. I had issues tearing me apart and slowly devouring me inside and I had to work them out. This was the only way I could. No one would listen, no one believed that I was tortured by my past so much. The inner turmoil that was raging in my heart and through my soul was only visible and tangible to me. So how could they have understood? That drive to write it all out was there, nagging at me, pulling me to this place to get it out. And I did. The result was the need slowly went away, faded out, felt me alone.

Perhaps, this is a good thing. I guess it's a hidden relief to me, one that will let me rest easy for once. Allow me to be free and live life. Or maybe everything is still there under the surface. Trying desperately to claw it's way back up where it will once again be visible to my eye. The latter seems more likely. But I know that when it does come back, I will always have a home here in which I can scream and rant and rage freely. Home is where the heart is. My heart is continuously wandering.