I have a story.
I feel its presence, lurking just out of reach in the depths of my soul. Once in awhile, I catch a rare glimpse of an unspoken word, a shadow that flashes and disappears before fully conceived. It lingers, brushing my soul teasingly in gesture, wrapping around my heart...but always, always beyond my grasp.
It resides deep inside, tainting reality, forming a contradiction of self. It's why nothing is as real to me as fiction.
I fear the day it emerges will be the day my very breath is pulled from my body, a ripping forth of my identity onto paper, naked and vulnerable.
I have a story.
I sense its potential. But it's not ready.
I'm not ready.
3 comments:
Hi Betsy!
Found your blog via CWO blogroll and wanted to invite you to my writerly blog: Light for the Writer's Soul. Drop by when you get a minute and be sure to let me know you were there.
Love your place here and glad I found you. Will be back to enjoy more soon.
Don't you love it when a story grabs hold and won't let you go? You write, girl!
Ah but you will be.
One day.
And when you are, you will be surprised at how easy it pours forth from you...
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