Delusional

Hi guys.

I hope all is good and everyone is happy, content and ready for winter. Im not. But I hope you are.

I spent an hour just now, reading entries from my journal from late 2012 till mid 2014. The SmileKeeper era. What a time. I think it’s great that when reading these entries everything that I felt comes rushing back. It’s like it happened yesterday.

Anyway for those who don’t know #SK is a pet name I used for the man I was seeing then. Undoubtedly, the best man I know after my father. Needless to say, he was a lot like my father. My love for him sort of made me wonder if it’s true that girls are inclined to fall for men who remind them of their fathers.

Alas, I read my journal and felt everything rushing back. The intensity of that relationship. The depth of my love. The depth of his. The intensity of our love. It was always so over powering. Sometimes it would feel like my chest was heavy. That I needed to open it up and pour out some of the emotions so that I can breathe much better.

And if I am to be asked why did the relationship end? I would not be able to answer.

This is not an entry about him or our relationship or what happened. It’s more of a revelation, more so to myself than the next person.

I am a writer. I write a lot. I’ve always been a writer. My journal is bursting with words. Over flows.

And so it was such a sad revelation to me to notice that there is absolutely nothing in my journal for about six months after my break up with this man.

I know I tried to write but nothing ever could actually happen. I’d open a page, pen in hand and….nothing.

That saddens me so much. I don’t know why. I am not sure why. It’s like I wasn’t myself then. And who was I? If I don’t know. Who does?

That space between the times that I could write haunts me the same way his hands haunt me. Because not being able to write how I feel feels empty. Feels like I was a stranger, even to myself.
But we recover
We always have to.
Because who I am outside of my words and my poetry.

 

”remember,
you were a writer
before
you ever
put
pen to paper.
just because you were not writing
externally.
does not mean you were not writing
internally.”
Nayyirah Waheed

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