There’s something I have to write about but it’s giving me a hard time. It feels like this writhing thing inside of me that wants to get out, (you know, the usual feeling), but if I try to write about it, the words trail off, my fingers stop moving. It’s not that I’m scared of sharing this with you, (I love you but/and you’re really nobody, to me), I have a block just putting it down in written sentences. The words aren’t there to summarize.
Writing down is an alchemical treatment that some things resist. For different reasons, maybe, that I have yet to understand. The frustrating thing is, (why this of all things?), how simple it should be to put down. And at the same time, how alien the words will be from the experience, because the experience is (was) confusing and, well, terrifying in ways I maybe don’t want to share, or “externalize”, (it strikes me, what dubious complexity is hidden inside that word), or let go of.
Something precious (to me) that I don’t want to let go of.
(Working on it.)