apersonaljourney – stories of love

I use this page to collect my thoughts. Funny though, I have a wonderful readership, leaves me pleased and genuinely grateful. I write a lot of poetry here, sort of stream of consciousness. The active reader would know readily that the majority of words are meant for one set of eyes. The benefit of an increasing readership is appreciated as I decide whether I might continue to pursue this writing gig.

I recently experienced an epiphany of sorts. I’ve been involved in circles in life that have talked of epiphanies as I would a new brand of ice cream in the freezer, nothing of any serious note I could actually wrap my head around. But of late, after experiencing a medical procedure I came to terms with how precious life is, and how important it is that we do go after that which brings us happiness. It seems though I cannot do this alone.

I choose to write my thoughts in here. What happens though is that my greatest fear is I give indication of my own vulnerability to a world that has seemingly darkened every passage I have towards their own heart and soul. I become hesitant, second-guessing, wondering if silence would be more beneficial in the scheme of things. Then I fear that the quiet would only assure a further distance, and I become anxious, lost, and I suppose a depression might settle in. Its funny because just last week, someone asked about my state of mind, and I suggested to them I feel better than I have in quite some time. It was the truth, there were no obstacles in my way. And then it happened.

Today, I struggle. I seek the ability to be silent but I cannot stop my words, the only outlet I have is the compassion and nearby memory of love. The actuality of being in someone’s arms rather than imagining or fantasizing is a powerful drug, one I would cater to taking once a day for the rest of my life if it might insure a consistency with my soul, my heart, and what I feel for that set of eyes, whose glance I do so yearn.

So why the matter of words. Because even this short essay is a pouring out of my truth, a simple gesture on my part, though sometimes more powerful than I would like it to be. It is me telling the world, expressing to one, my feelings, my fear, my anxiety, while I have nowhere to reflect upon the same, only the hope that my strength might perhaps credit some response. In the meantime, I have to seek whatever I can in a distant reveal.

See this is me here again, my words are meant to be heard and listened to yet, as much as I will express my innermost feelings, there is a part of me that believes for now, it is far too honest, far too self-effacing, rather than showing confidence in the strength of silence.

© Scott F Savage 2019