Down deep is a writer. A man yearning to express more than just the mundane day to day. A minstrel, or maybe more a gypsy, wrapped inside a poet's soul, walking around in normal man's clothes. I am that man. Trying to be a father, husband, a worker, and a good man, but also desiring to express the inner sanctum of my thoughts and being in words and music. The struggle is epic. To deny one side leans towards losing all the relationships, the safety and stability I've worked for. But to deny the other, well that one is so, so devastating inside.
So how do I begin? Do I take the sad tale of a child that was wrongly removed from innocence, or do I take the young man who loved the thought of girls, creating poetry with words and melodies and being in a rock 'n roll band? Or do I start from the unraveling of all the years of trying to be something I wasn't? Trying to find peace with no real healthy outlet.
I think I'll just take now. Where I've walked through so many things with more strength than I ever thought I could muster, and quite honestly crawling through at times with no strength at all. Now faced with the added addition of a larger family, a house that just HAS to become a home, and a man who still is longing for something deeper to give his thoughts and long lost dreams to.
Inside I won't be denied this any longer. And so I take pen to paper, try to break the rust off years being told I wasn't good enough, being told that it was something I could never succeed at. Every day I write. Every day I find a thought or a notion that I put to paper. Every day I find something that allows me to let the inside speak. Some days the words flow so richly on the page, but others it's a quest for something to even inspire. But no matter what, I take the blank canvas before me and brush it with the ink of my thoughts, my tears and my joys. The ultimate me. In sadness. In laughter. And in peace.
7/19/16
clc
