When the only thing overflowing is your coffee cup, write.
When it is humid and 100 degrees outside and you have no AC, write.
When tears fall because nothing else will, write.
When you watch Law & Order hour after hour to feel anything at all or nothing per se, write.
When the dishes are dirty, the peaches are bruised, the washer is full and the bed is empty, write.
When you think you know something, write.
When you know you know nothing, write.
When your best friend is a computer screen, you best talk to it because you know someone has to say something.
When you wake up one day and find out all your talking means nothing, write.
When the only map you know is the weave of words, set a route. When you need a destination, make it up. When the only way is set with detours, take each one. When you need a sign, make one.
When the only way to score is by adding seconds to hours, stop watching time. When time undoes you, breathe. When breathing is all you have, be grateful.
When the phone does not ring, unplug it. When the mirrors show you someone you’d rather not see, take them down. When sleep does not give you dreams, stay awake. When staying awake is boring, write.
I used to drink when I was happy. I used to drink when I was sad. I used to drink because I could not stand being in my body.
Now I write.
I write to find my way into the places I don’t know. I write to catch my breath as it leaves. I write to be in body. I write to leave my body. The more I hurt, the more I write.
I write when I am happy too, but I think I forgot happy with the episodes of Law & Order. The order I need changes with the channels. The order I had dissolved.
The only way I know to spell relief rests at my fingertips. Chocolate helps in moments. Coffee eases me. Conversations with a select few remind me of where meaning can be.
I am ready. I am ready for this episode. There’s coffee in the kitchen. The words have lead me into a moment and now I have to leave.
I have to leave because tomorrow will come before I am ready. I am more ready now than before now.
What do you do? Does writing work for you? I wish I could sing or dance but neither give me relief. I am not looking for joy or happiness right now.
I am just looking. I am not sure what I found. I am not sure what I lost. Somewhere between the lines there’s an answer. My question is how to begin again when I am treading water in the middle. The circle grows larger. There’s no way out. But this is my way in.
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Ed: B. Bemel