Getting awfully fed up of checking my emails twice, three times...eight times daily and seeing the same blank screen staring back at me like the Magic Mirror declaring silently "You are clearly not the fairest of them all"
I do not want to face Christmas which is crawling out from under the bed like an old sock I'd rather throw away than consider wearing again. -Check out the similes I'm busting out here, I guess the more downtrodden you feel in the real world the more the creative energy in the land of imagination flows.
Days like today I wonder if I didn't have the imagination I am gifted with and the urge to write would I go half mad, then I admit that I pretty much am half mad as I feel more inclined to speak through ink to a piece of paper than to strike up a conversation with most people in the world around me. Then I think I'm not mad, the people around me with noses stuck in glass screens but boasting that they have brilliant lives are mad. I canter off point....if I didn't have this desperation inside to write, days like today would eat me alive.
When someone makes you feel pointless, it's crucial in order to keep your very core alive that you take those moments, chew them up and spit them out before telling yourself what you are worth. It's the people that can't remember, or can't see who they are that end up falling into the pit of darkness made up of the words of others. I say it so often to myself I guess because I rarely, if ever hear anyone else say it...I have a bright light inside of me, and I know I am meant for a greater existence.
I know everyone carries psychological hang-ups from childhood and school but so often I feel myself slipping back into that dirty damp place full of self esteem issues and I can see that young girl, confidence worn down by everyone even my closest friends who I am delighted to say don't feature in my life anymore, when the only thing that made me feel good was to sit alone and write. As I have always done. As I do now. I have to force myself to keep from tumbling over the edge of that line, to feeling like I am still that girl. I. Am. Not.
I am a bright light. I know who I am.