| General Non-Fiction posted June 10, 2022 |
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The journey, then and now
Bitter-sweet
by Wendy G
Writing Contest Winner
Now:
I write for the pleasure and I write for the pain. I write to laugh and I write to explain. I write to connect and to cross the world, and I write to react to words that are hurled. How hard to express that inner drive, and that feeling of joy when I come alive!
This is what I do – my mind's at work the whole day through, and night-time too. It tires me out, without a doubt, and whatever I say, well, it's just my way. Yes, it's a compulsion, an addiction, a hunger and thirst, and whatever I do, well, writing comes first. I write because I must, I have no choice, for writing expresses my inner voice…..
******
Then:
I began my writing journey when I was young, and not whole – broken in spirit and sick in my soul. No-one saw my words, my cries weren't heard, but ejecting them, simply writing them, did me good - just as a medicine would. I realised that such wounds and sickness would heal, and gradually, very gradually that hope became real. Writing was a balm, soothing and healing, brnging calm.
******
Now:
The scars remain, and I will not tear open those wounds again, although at the marks I do sometimes look – and wonder at the path I took. I choose to let it go, to let those waters flow. And I will not cause others distress, for their lives too were a mess. Exposing what they did to me – no point in letting others see.
******
Then:
Life intervened. Thoughts of writing came and went, but I was spent. There were, at times, crushing experiences which reminded me of the tight squeezing and compression of a heart attack. The pain was back. Focus was on survival, breathing, not on recording the details in word-filled charts, talking of my broken parts.
******
Now:
And now I write because I am free, I write of what I see. I write not to be healed, but to heal others, I write to show care for my sisters and brothers.
******
And, as Forrest Gump said: life is like a box of chocolates – so is my writing now. You never know what you might get, but I hope you will enjoy this taste of life, and the variety of life experiences. There may be the occasional piece which is dark with feeling, like bitter chocolate, but there will be plenty of variety, different flavours of life.
Writing is not a healing medicine now, with a bitter taste – it's a delicious treat. It's my pleasure, and my addiction.
Now:
I write for the pleasure and I write for the pain. I write to laugh and I write to explain. I write to connect and to cross the world, and I write to react to words that are hurled. How hard to express that inner drive, and that feeling of joy when I come alive!
This is what I do – my mind's at work the whole day through, and night-time too. It tires me out, without a doubt, and whatever I say, well, it's just my way. Yes, it's a compulsion, an addiction, a hunger and thirst, and whatever I do, well, writing comes first. I write because I must, I have no choice, for writing expresses my inner voice…..
******
Then:
I began my writing journey when I was young, and not whole – broken in spirit and sick in my soul. No-one saw my words, my cries weren't heard, but ejecting them, simply writing them, did me good - just as a medicine would. I realised that such wounds and sickness would heal, and gradually, very gradually that hope became real. Writing was a balm, soothing and healing, brnging calm.
******
Now:
The scars remain, and I will not tear open those wounds again, although at the marks I do sometimes look – and wonder at the path I took. I choose to let it go, to let those waters flow. And I will not cause others distress, for their lives too were a mess. Exposing what they did to me – no point in letting others see.
******
Then:
Life intervened. Thoughts of writing came and went, but I was spent. There were, at times, crushing experiences which reminded me of the tight squeezing and compression of a heart attack. The pain was back. Focus was on survival, breathing, not on recording the details in word-filled charts, talking of my broken parts.
******
Now:
And now I write because I am free, I write of what I see. I write not to be healed, but to heal others, I write to show care for my sisters and brothers.
******
And, as Forrest Gump said: life is like a box of chocolates – so is my writing now. You never know what you might get, but I hope you will enjoy this taste of life, and the variety of life experiences. There may be the occasional piece which is dark with feeling, like bitter chocolate, but there will be plenty of variety, different flavours of life.
Writing is not a healing medicine now, with a bitter taste – it's a delicious treat. It's my pleasure, and my addiction.
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Writing Prompt Write a story or essay with the topic of "writing". Can be instructional or a character in the story can be a writer. Creative approaches welcomed. |
Writing Contest Winner |
As creative work was encouraged in this write, there is some rhyme, but not all the time. It just came out that way ...
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. 
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