Just Write

Just Write

I like this idea. Free writing — writing freely, writing to be free?

Just write — just right.
What is right about writing? Everything, I suppose. The freedom is in the action itself, if only I’d allow myself to do it more often…

I think I’ll start now.

* * * * *

Words have been halting in my throat and fingers these days. These months.

These years?

I buy myself yet another notebook for the shelf of blank books. I stare at its pages, get out a new black pen, place them carefully together in my bag. There they sit.

One book has a few notes in it now. A new friend’s email address. A to-do list, and a packing manifesto. At least it is writing, I tell myself. But we all know better.

* * * * *

Inside my mind, there is a woman at a desk, scribbling furiously. Another one has her laptop out, huddled on a couch with her words flowing through the click of her typing fingers.

And then, there is me, I think, screaming silently.

* * * * *

linked up — just write

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