Time Tells All

Today is the day...

I tell myself this as I sit down and prepare to write an online blog.

I've always been a private person - terrified that if the world views the real me... The one that I've kept hidden from everyone, all of my life - they will take one look, and see me for the idiot that I've always believed myself to be.

Until just very recently, I never believed that my writing was good enough for the eyes of others.

It took the love of one man and the strength of my friends to teach me that perhaps... Just perhaps... I have talent within that should be shown to the world.

For once in my life I am starting to think that I just may have what it takes to write professionally.

I've always written.

If there was pen and paper or some other way to get words written down, I've used it.

The words felt like a demon that needed to come forth and spill out; poetry, stories, journals, little quotes, thoughts, ideas and even just daily lists or plans. It didn't matter. I just had to write.

Some days the words flowed like madness, spreading across the pages to plague my hands with cramps and empty my mind. Leaving me drained and exhausted like a marathon torture session, yet at the same time lightening my spirit and awakening the bloodthirst for even more writing.

Other days, the words stuttered into existence, needing to be transcribed - but taking their precious time to burst forth into being.

Deep you say?

Well step into my mind and fall into the pools of thoughts swirling and churning in rapid succession.

Dark you say?

Not at all. In fact, very uplifting. Very calming and extremely enlightening.

How can such an in depth, introspective process be enlightening?

Simply, I say...

For, if I had not written all those moments in my life, I believe that I would never have survived the past. I would have perished in the need to express the constant flow of creativity. I would have had no existence without those words...

And now, believing in myself - where I once believed myself to be nothing but a fool - I believe that this alone - this incredible need to create words into something coherent...

This...

This...

This is what makes a true writer.